Curtain Call
by Ambiguous Umbra
Summary: Coulson begins to remember more after the events of "The Magical Place". Becoming more withdrawn from his team and paranoid of the agency he works for, he soon discovers what S.H.I.E.L.D. is willing to do in order to keep hold of him. May leads the team in a quest for answers as Coulson struggles to understand what happened to him. (Hints of CoulsonMay & CoulsonOC.) Chapter 21 up.
1. Chapter 1

I have returned! It's been a super long time since I've posted anything here, but honestly? I miss writing fanfics! They're just so fun! And I figured since I'm now obsessed with Agents of Shield that it would be fun to write an angsty Coulson story. So here it goes. Enjoy!

* * *

Suffocating. He was suffocating. The room was small and closing in around him again. The stained flowered wallpaper, his back arching against the cold machine, the restraints biting into his wrists… And he was somewhere else simultaneously, a place he never should have remembered. Cold metal, pinpricks of electricity buzzing over his head. His shocked warped reflection stared back at him as if it couldn't believe what it was happening to him. There was no comprehension, only pain, one that roared and fell over him like a massive tsunami. There was no end in sight. And no one would answer his pleas.

"Please…let me die! Please…please…please…" he sobbed.

Another voice was suddenly there, soft, muffled by the machines and the voices of the doctors arguing with one another. He clung to the familiarity of it, trying to pull himself from the quicksand of the memory.

"Coulson!"

"Let me die! Let me—"

BANG!

He bolted up from the bed, his hand already around the 9 mil on his bedside table.

Skye stood half in the doorway, panting and frozen. "Whoa, whoa, calm down!" she shouted.

Coulson clicked the safety on and let his hand fall, the gun clattering on the rug at his feet. "Skye…" he breathed, trying to catch his own breath. The wooden walls, the sticky sheets he was tangled in, his books, his antique binoculars, his models… His room. He was here. Not there. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

When he opened them again, he noticed his door had been forced open, splinters littering the carpet. "Why did you…"

She glanced back at the door. "I heard you shouting. I came as quick as I—"

"I'm fine," he interrupted her.

"Coulson, you're not."

"I said "I'm fine"!" he urged again. "Please leave."

Skye looked like she'd been stung. She turned on her heel and stalked back to the door. May appeared in the doorway as she shoved past her. "He's fine," she snarled to the pilot as she vanished down the corridor.

May stepped inside gingerly as Coulson sat up on his bed. He put a hand to his head.

"Please…" he said wearily. "I'm just tired."

"I don't doubt that. But if you need to talk you know where to find me." She left and the silence returned in full.

He looked after her briefly and returned his sights to the rug at his feet. He couldn't rip his mind away from that other place, the place he wished he'd never gone searching for in his head. It wasn't the only place that had returned after he'd returned from the desert. The machine had brought back more. It had cracked open the gaps, yawning black holes in his mind that had begun to fill up until they were brimming and boiling with memories. He wasn't even sure how many of them were real or not.

They had taken so much from him and given so much back. Everything they'd given back had been fake though. How was he supposed to continue to fight for them? How could he when he now knew what they'd done to him; what Nick Fury had done to him? He wrung his hands and stood up, walking to the bathroom. He turned on the cold water and splashed his face. The cold sting woke him a little and made the thoughts spin faster.

Fury was going to know he'd visited the doctor. He'd know that the machine had cracked open his mind. They'd know he was remembering. And if they did, he had to wonder what they'd be capable of doing to him to keep things the way they were. His thoughts returned to the broken door, to his team. They were going to notice. And when one of them made a harmless comment, his façade would come tumbling down.

It was hard to go on fighting when there was suddenly no reason to.

* * *

Reviews are always welcome. Stay tuned for chapter 2...


	2. Chapter 2

Song inspiration for this chapter was "Bloodstream (Quartet Session) by Stateless"

* * *

The shriek of the Captain America alarm clock next to him brought Coulson out of the empty sleep he'd eventually settled into. Light pierced his eyes and brightened the room around him. And all of his fears tumbled back on him like a landslide.

After a quick shower and a shave, he gazed into the mirror at himself, tracing the bruises and scratches that still haunted his face from his trip to the desert. It wasn't the worst working over he'd ever had. The men were amateurs at best when it came to physically hurting him. He'd hadn't been concerned with breaking. He would have kept S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secret, the one they'd kept from him to the grave. The revelation stirred something in him.

He let his fingers trace down the ugly scar that lined his chest.

_I should be dead._

_This should have killed me._

And yet, months later, he was ready to die again for them, for the people who had brought him back.

_A second chance at life is nothing to sniff at_, he thought, pulling on a white suit shirt in his bedroom and starting to button it up. _Anyone else would be happy to have it._

_But they didn't just bring me back. They reprogrammed me into what they wanted._

A new memory fluttered to him now. One of a hospital room, everything painfully white and smelling like antiseptic. He remembered the leather restraints wrapped tightly on his wrists, holding him to the gurney, much like they had held him into that terrible machine in the desert; the Eye-Opener he'd begun to subconsciously call it. Because after all, that's what it had done. It had cleared away the lies.

There was food there, lying just within reach. A sandwich, some jello. Was that water? He hadn't cared. He hadn't touched it. Even when they cleared it away that evening and brought him another tray with another sandwich, another bowl of jello, another glass of water. He just slept. And when he didn't sleep, he stared at his hands, at the raging red wound on his chest and contemplated why he was there.

They'd let him out of the restraints once. That was their mistake.

A knock at his door made him pull the knot in his tie too tightly. He coughed and crooked a finger between it and his neck. "Come in?"

Ward appeared around the corner with a file folder in his hand. He studied his boss for a moment before handing the folder over. "Didn't sleep much?"

Coulson's head shot up and he scoffed. "You could say that. What's this?"

"We have new orders. We're to divert our course to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base in New York immediately."

Coulson frowned. "What? Why? We're closing in on the rest of Project Centipede. Any diversion will just slow our progress."

"It was Director Fury's call. He wants to see you."

Frozen. It was just as he'd feared. He knew Fury would be quick to guess. He'd be interested to know what the Clairvoyant found out from that little machine. The interrogation with Raina had probably provided him with some worry.

"Sir?" Ward was staring at him.

"Change our course," Coulson ordered reluctantly, pulling his blazer out of the closet and throwing it on. "Let me know when we get there."

There was question in Ward's gaze one that Coulson hoped he wouldn't voice. Instead, Ward just nodded and walked back down the hall.

* * *

Coffee. Rich and hot. It would strip him of the last of those awful memories for a few hours at least. He had to keep his focus. Agent Hand had managed to hunt down several Project Centipede strongholds during his capture. They had a lot more they had to clean up. He couldn't be distracted by what the agency _might _do to him.

_You have to keep up the wall. The act. Fury can't know you've remembered it all. Even if he knows you remembered the room, he can't know you remember being _that_ thing…_

"A.C.?"

He turned around. Skye. Her big doe eyes were cautionary and he suddenly hated himself for the way he'd acted last night. Before she could say anything, he said, "I'm sorry about last night. I know you were only trying to help."

She took a deep breath. "You were shouting the same things that you shouted while in the machine."

"Nightmares," he clipped defensively.

"Bullshit," she said under her breath.

"Excuse me?"

"You can't expect me to just accept that. "Nightmares"? Whatever Raina did to you in there…"

"Skye…"

"She _broke_ you."

His eyes widened. "No, she didn't."

Skye put a hand on his. "You are one of the bravest men I've ever met. Unflinching. And when I saw what she'd done to you in there, it killed me."

_Chips. The top of the wall is wavering._

"Stop it," he said softly.

"I'm worried!" she said louder than before.

Several people nearby glanced in their direction.

Coulson grabbed her arm and guided her into her room just off the main room. He slid the door shut behind them. "I'm okay, Skye. I told you she messed with my head. She did. She showed me things I hoped I'd never see. But they weren't real. Just like the nightmares aren't real."

"It's been a week, A.C.," she whispered. "Aren't you afraid?"

He frowned. "Afraid?"

She leaned close to him. "That you'll keep remembering?"

When she leaned back, it wasn't Skye's familiar gaze he was staring into. It was Raina's. She cooed softly and put a hand to his cheek. "Don't fight it."

He backed into the door, sliding it open behind him. He tumbled down, falling beneath where the ground should have been.

Falling…

Falling…

Falling…

"Coulson."

He snapped up.

The leather chair in his office. He'd sat in it for just a few moments to look at some paperwork. Sleep had tackled him there, trying to catch up on its missed opportunities from the night before.

Skye was standing in the doorway. "We're in New York, just about to land."

He put a hand to his forehead and took a shaky breath. "Thanks."

* * *

Chapter 3 coming soon...


	3. Chapter 3

Blue Fire (feat. Amenta) by Stateless is the inspiration here. Enjoy!

* * *

Phil Coulson stood stiffly just inside the door of Director Nick Fury's office. He was afraid to open his mouth, afraid to breathe. One single exhale could reveal a hitch in his breath, his unsurmountable fears that had been gathering ever since earlier that day. All he could do was stare and try to keep it in.

Director Fury stood up from his chair, his brow furrowing as he stepped around his desk and approached Coulson. "I heard what happened to you in the desert."

"I'm fine," Coulson managed. _Too fast. I answered too fast._

Fury sighed. "Looks like you took a hell of a beating."

"I've had worse."

"That you have. Well, I'm glad that you're back with us." He set his hand on the agent's shoulder.

Coulson flinched.

Fury removed his hand quickly, as if he'd accidentally shocked him. "Why don't you have a seat? Can I get you a glass of something?"

Coulson sat, anything to keep his knees from knocking together. _I just want to leave. I just want to go. _"No, thanks."

The director leaned against his desk and locked his eye on Coulson's blue ones. "I got a call from Doctor Streiten last night. Seems he had an unexpected visit from you last week." He put his hands up. "It's a wonder that I'm hearing about it only now."

"Sir, I was just—"

"You remember, don't you?"

The question was straight to the point. However much Coulson had been expecting it, he was still unprepared for the loss of words it gave him. He cleared his throat and nodded.

Fury was silent for a long time, much longer than Coulson would have liked. But he understood it. It didn't stop his own anger and frustration from building. He felt it might begin to show steam rising from his skin, a heat given off that he couldn't control. Sweat poured from his brow and under his arms. He couldn't hold it in anymore.

"You played God, sir," he said, trying to keep his voice from hitching. "It was my time and I was supposed to go."

"Phil, it was not your time," Fury said, as if he were talking to a child. The tone only made Coulson's rage grow.

"You had no right to decide that," he seethed. "Even when I was begging for death, you kept me anchored in that room, feeling every bit of pain during all of those surgeries…"

"I wasn't going to let Loki beat us," Fury rumbled, standing and walking to the window. "I wasn't going to let him beat me. If there was a chance to save you, I wanted to take it."

"Did you ever stop to think if you should?" he asked, standing up. "Jesus, it's my life, damn it. If I had wanted it to end, you should have just let it end."

"There are other factors in play that you can't begin to imagine, Phil." Fury rounded on him so fast that Coulson nearly stepped backward in fear. He kept his ground though.

""Other factors"?" Coulson echoed, clearing his voice.

"Ones that are beyond your clearance level."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Nevertheless, we are bound by confidentiality clauses here and even if I wanted to tell you, my hands are tied."

"I _dream_ about that room, Nick."

Fury's eye found the floor once again.

"I haven't stopped dreaming about it in a week. What those doctors did to me was unconscionable, altering my memories…"

"For your own good!" Fury blasted. "You wouldn't be the man you are today without them."

"I don't want to live on lies…" he pleaded. "I don't know what to trust anymore."

Fury approached him again, his face stern. "You trust the job. The missions. Your team. And despite what you might think, you _can_ trust me, Phil."

The idea was like poison seeming into Coulson's system. How could he trust his former friend and commanding officer? How could he even look in his eyes after what he'd done?

"You're going to stay in New York," Fury said, turning back to his desk. "Have a psych profile done while you're here."

"That's unnecessary."

"Is it now?" Fury turned back to him, eye wide. "Dreaming about what happened to you in that room for a week?"

Coulson closed his eyes. He'd walked right into that one.

"You're going to take the psych evaluation. If it clears, you get back on the plane and go after the rest of Project Centipede."

"We're going to lose them if we waste our time here…"

"I'm going to have Agents Hand and Hill continue the search while you're here."

Coulson shook his head. He'd never meant to implode in front of Fury, never meant to show all of the anger and frustration. But he also couldn't be a robot and ignore everything that had been done to him.

"Do you remember anything before that room?" Fury questioned suddenly sitting back in his chair behind his desk. His eye analyzed Coulson like a machine analyzing for viruses. Deep, too close, too watchful.

"N-No."

The stammer.

The damn stutter.

It had given him away.

And just as he'd expected, Fury pretended not to notice. "Tomorrow 0800. You'll meet with the shrink."

"Yes, sir." It took everything he had to keep his voice civil.

"Dismissed."

* * *

Chapter 4 coming soon...


	4. Chapter 4

Inspiration for this chapter from Prism #1 by Stateless (Music is an amazing motivator!) Enjoy!

* * *

May was just leaving the cockpit of the Bus as Coulson was climbing the ramp back onto it. Even before he was completely within her sight, she knew something was very wrong. The way his shoulders drooped, the lack of effort in the way he walked, the blank stare in his eyes. He didn't even look her way as he moved passed her.

"Phil," she called over her shoulder to him.

He stopped and glanced back at her. "Yeah?"

"Everything okay?"

He didn't answer. He just kept walking toward his room.

She followed. If he didn't answer, it meant he wanted to talk and he didn't want to do it there in the hall. She'd gleaned just as many non-verbal cues from Coulson as she'd learned the emotional ones. The same had gone for her. Her expressions were few and far between. Always stony, unwilling to compromise her character at the cost of being weak. It was the way she had to be. He recognized that. It was what connected them.

Within moments of reaching the doorway to his room, she found Coulson leaning over his desk, his fists clenched.

"I take it your meeting with Director Fury didn't go the way you'd hoped it would," she guessed.

"He wants to keep us here in New York," he reported.

_Okay, not what I expected._ "Why?"

"Because of me. Because of what happened in the desert."

May's confusion cleared. "They want to do a psych eval?"

He straightened and nodded. "It's standard protocol. I have no choice."

She frowned and took a step closer. "If you had a choice, why wouldn't you?"

Coulson opened his mouth but no sound came out. He scratched his head and sat on the edge of his desk. "Because it haunts me."

May's look softened. The screaming last night that she'd heard from his room… The nightmare. She'd heard him crying out more than just last night. It had never been as loud though, as earth-shattering as his scream the previous evening. It was getting worse.

"I don't like the idea of sitting down with a complete stranger and telling them my deepest darkest secrets so they can pick me apart like an insect under a microscope," he added.

"I know the feeling," she said, unwilling to share any more than that. They had talked about it many times before, back when she'd been just as defenseless and confused as he was probably feeling now. That had been his time to be there for her. Now she needed to do the same for him.

"You know how I said I felt different and I wasn't sure why?"

She nodded. "And I told you that you had every right to feel that way."

"I know why now. And it…corrupted…everything moral and principled about this job and the people I serve."

Sensing they needed more privacy, May turned back to the door and tried to pull it closed. It stuck in the track.

"Don't bother. Skye broke it last night breaking in here to check on me."

May crossed to him and took his large hands in hers, gripping his fingers. "You can tell me. I won't say anything."

And so he told her.

And when he was done, he quivered like a slacked line in a whipping wind. Every atom of May was calm. She'd been prepared for this moment, the moment that he would find out, the moment he'd crumble. She'd known it was going to happen ever since Fury had tasked her with keeping an eye on Coulson for him.

The only difference was that she'd had more faith in Coulson than Fury did. He needed to spring back from this. She had to make sure he did. Otherwise, she hated to think of the alternative.

And it didn't stop her from feeling the tiniest flickers of anger reignite as her former partner recalled his most anguish-filled moments. What they'd done was wrong. No one deserved to endure that much pain. It would fracture any mind. And the reprogramming made her even more sick to her stomach. She hadn't known about the extent of it, that it was meant to brainwash him. She'd only been aware of five surgeries. Coulson hinted at more. What else had Fury kept from him? From her?

"I'm not going to pass the psych evaluation if I keep dreaming about that room," Coulson said. "They'll take me away, maybe back to that room…"

"They're not going to do that. I'm not going to let them, Phil," she said with resolve.

He chuckled. "As if you could stop them?" His cheerless smirk vanished in moments. "You know as well as I do that they always get what they want, regardless of how it affects us."

She swallowed hard. She didn't want to remember. But how could she not? Coulson was going to endure his version of her own tragedy, the one that had made her lock herself up in a cubicle away from the world for years.

Her voice hardened. "No. They won't."

May gave his hand one last squeeze before she left his room and walked down the hall. Exiting the room was like coming up for air. It had been so hard to think in there, all of the images of Coulson undergoing that torture cropped up in her mind. It was horrible to imagine. She had to leave him with that promise. She had to step away for just a moment to think.

Fury was going to want her take on this.

She was going to have to disappoint him.

Phil couldn't go back into those rooms, couldn't undergo those same procedures again. She'd never be able to live with herself.

"Ward," she called into the cockpit.

The tall younger agent appeared within moments. "What's up?"

"We've got some downtime here in New York. I want to do some research while we're here."

Ward frowned. "Research on what?"

"I need to gain access to Coulson's medical file."

"Doesn't he already have access to that?"

"Not all of it. There are some parts of it that are still classified; level 8."

Ward leaned against the wall and exhaled. "None of us can access that."

May shook her head. "Except Skye."

Ward smiled. "I'll see if I can get her in to the database from a terminal in the city."

"We're looking for the facility that treated Coulson when they brought him back."

"Tahiti?"

May ground her teeth together. "Not even close."

Ward nodded and gave her a small cup on her cheek as he moved by her to look for Skye.

May gathered her strength and walked toward the ramp. Now for the hard part: convincing Fury she had no idea what Coulson was hiding.

* * *

Chapter 5 coming tomorrow evening...


	5. Chapter 5

Assassinations (Instrumental) by Stateless is today's inspiration. Warning: this chapter does contain some graphic content which has made me change the rating on this story to mature. Enjoy.

* * *

Afternoon brought paperwork. Lots of it. A mountain that practically enslaved Coulson in his office. He should have guessed it though. Fury would supply him with as much work as he could handle to either serve as a distraction from the visions and the nightmares or as something that would eventually break him. They were tiring reports of missions he'd participated in years ago, before New York. Before they'd brought him back. They were to be looked over thoroughly, to remind him of who he'd once been and who he was supposed to be now.

_Lest I become that thing again_, Coulson thought. He pulled his glasses off and massaged his temples. He hadn't seen any of the team in what felt like hours. He tried to imagine that was a good thing. May had seemed determined to make sure he didn't end up in some S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facility again, begging for death.

More than anything, he didn't want that.

He stood up and stretched. His stomach growled.

Every time he thought of eating, the image of that sandwich, cold, sad, unappetizing on its big white plate next to the cup of vibrant red jello returned to him. He'd lose any inclination to eat in moments.

Tea might have been good though. He left his office and headed to the break room. The Bus was surprisingly empty. He didn't blame Fury for reassigning most of the other agents though. New York was still being cleaned up after the Chiutari invasion. Loki's plans had nearly come to fruition here. He took a shuddering breath ad he dispensed some hot water into a mug and selected a bag of chamomile tea to dunk into it. It languished and turned the water to gold.

There had to be a way to do this. There had to be a way to not remember what he'd endured so vividly, a way to forgive S.H.I.E.L.D. and Nick Fury for what they had done to him. But the thought of the unflinching optimism and loyalty only turned his mind to dark places. Had those also been reprogrammed into his head?

He reached to grab a stir stick but found them all gone. He yanked the drawer out for a spoon and discovered a similar shortage. The sink nearby was filled with murky water, soap suds floating at the top, with, no doubt, all of the spoons resting at the bottom.

_Just like children_, he thought, cracking a tiny smile. He reached into the drawer and drew a knife, plunking it into the mug and swishing it around as he added some sugar.

Pulling the knife back out wasn't as harmless. Once it was in front of his gaze, he once again felt the world being pulled away from him, tugging him back there…to the hospital…

He'd actually tried to eat some apple slices one morning. He'd gone nearly five days without food. The only thing that had kept him going was the saline IV and the odd sip of water here and there.

"A marked improvement," he'd overheard one of the doctors say. _Sure. Whatever you want to think._

One of the nurses had stopped by moments later to help him bathe. She'd removed the cuffs on his wrists and was just helping him out of bed when she was abruptly called away. The warning lights were flashing. An emergency. A true emergency. She hadn't bothered to strap him back into the gurney. One minute she was there, and the next, half way down the hall.

He didn't even know where he'd found the pair of shears. They may have been with the nurses things so she could change his bandage. The doctors might have left them in the room by accident while re-applying his stitches.

It didn't matter.

The nurse returned to find him dragging one of the blades up his wrist, fresh blood spilling. She'd called the doctors. Within moments, he'd gone under again in what he'd hoped was a lasting darkness.

"Don't fight it, Agent Coulson," he heard Raina's voice in his head. "Don't fight it!"

As the images faded, the blood bloomed and strengthened until he realized just what he'd done. It gushed down his arm, soaking his suit shirt. He grabbed the counter for support, dropping the knife and sending the mug of tea to the floor.

CRASH.

He grabbed at his wrist, trying to stem the bloodflow. It oozed between his fingers.

Footsteps behind him now.

"Oh my god!" Fitz's voice rang out.

Coulson suddenly felt hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him down toward the floor.

"Simmons! Get a kit! Quickly!"

Fitz's hand clamped down on the deep gouge with a dish towel. Coulson seethed from the sudden pressure.

"How did this happen, Boss?" he asked the older agent.

"It was an accident. I don't know how…"

Simmons arrived moments later, her eyes wide with horror. "Oh, geez!" she cried kneeling down in front of him and breaking open the kit. "What happened?"

"I don't know," he said. Exhaustion washed over him and sleep beckoned for him to join its dark embrace.

"Let me look at it," Simmons said, gently taking his arm and removing the dish towel. A squirt of blood spat out, staining Coulson's trousers. "Oh, it's deep. We've got to get him over to medical. Now!" She put a hand to his face, snapping him out of his slow progression into sleep. "Can you walk?"

Coulson nodded and with Fitz's help stood. He let the younger agents guide him down the hall to the medical bay, the blood leaving trails down the corridor behind them.

The moment he saw the medical bed, everything in him tensed. He planted his feet and Fitz nearly lost his grip on him.

"Sir, what's wrong?" Simmons asked, studying him.

"I can't…I can't go in there."

"It's the only way we can take care of that cut. We can't have you bleeding out right here."

_Why not?_

He shook his head. "I'm not lying on the bed," he said resolvedly.

"Fine, this chair will do."

They sat him into a straight backed chair, tore at the sleeve of the shirt and rolled it up past his elbow. "Jesus, it's nearly half way up his arm!" Fitz noted, keeping pressure applied to the area closest to his wrist.

"How did you say this happened again?" Simmons asked, grabbing some antiseptic and stitches from her kit.

"I was making tea," Coulson said, finding it hard to keep focusing on her voice.

"With a knife?"

"Were no spoons in the drawer," he slurred and eyed Fitz. "Someone doesn't do their own dishes."

Fitz's eyes widened for a moment. "I swear if I'd thought not doing my dishes would kill someone someday, I'd have been right on that, Boss."

Coulson closed his eyes, drifting on a sea of pain.

"Here," Simmons gave him a shot. "That should dull some of the pain while I work on this."

He felt it enter his body in a huge burst, slipping through his veins so quickly it nearly caught him off guard and only brought sleep closer.

"…look self-inflicted…" he heard Simmons murmur to Fitz. "I think I should call Director Fury…"

"No!" he cried out, making both junior agents jump. "Don't do that."

"Sir…" Simmons began to protest.

He opened his eyes a crack to look at her. "I want Melinda. Only her."

Simmons nodded to Fitz and said, "You call. I'll take over from here."

The pressure on his arm released for only a moment before another replaced it. It was just enough to allow the blackness in, and as it swallowed him, he faintly heard Raina's voice again urging him "not to fight it".

* * *

Chapter 6 to come soon...


	6. Chapter 6

Inspiration from "Tahiti" from Bat For Lashes. Enjoy!

* * *

"He did what?" May's voice erupted from the farthest corner of the internet café.

Ward and Skye looked up from the monitor they were gazing at.

"That doesn't sound good," Ward murmured.

Skye didn't answer. Something in her gut told her that it had to do with Coulson. Ever since he'd snapped at her the night before, she hadn't been able to keep her mind off him. Something was wrong. He hadn't wanted to talk about what had happened to him in the desert and he had been vehemently defensive last night over his "nightmare". Of everyone on the team, Coulson was the one she trusted the most. Couldn't he see that she was just as dedicated to him and his well-being as the rest of the team?

Her skin crawled. What had he done to illicit such an explosive response from May, someone who was usually so well kept? She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"I'll be there soon," May promised the person on the other end. "Don't let him—"

The rest of it was cut off by a sudden boil of laughter from some high school kids by the door. _Don't let him do what?_

May flipped the phone closed and stalked toward the front doors. "I have to go," she announced as she passed them.

"What happened?" Sky asked.

"You both stay here. I'll take care of it," she said on her way out the door.

"Is it Coulson?" Skye called after her.

May didn't turn around.

A couple of people lifted their heads from their online chats, their games, and their studying but within a minute soon regressed back into it.

"We should keep trying to hack his file," Ward said, turning back to the computer.

She shook her head. "We should be there with him, helping him through whatever's going on."

Ward's dark eyes connected with hers. "May will deal with whatever is going on. We need to find out where they were treating Coulson for his protection. Maybe then we can gather some ideas about what happened to him."

Skye sighed. _Please don't do anything you'll regret, AC._

"This would go a lot faster if I could do it myself," she commented, watching Ward hunt and peck for each key.

"You can't do anything until that bracelet is off. The minute you try to hack anything, S.H.I.E.L.D. will lock it down."

She pointed to a file in the upper left hand corner. "Go there."

Ward clicked the cursor. Immediately, a box opened on the screen flashing bright red letters. LEVEL 9 CLEARANCE ONLY.

Ward swore and glanced over his shoulder at Skye. "What now?"

She stared blankly at the screen. "That was my back door into the file. I thought that would get us in. S.H.I.E.L.D. really covered their asses here."

"I'm not even sure what we're trying to hunt down. Not one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical offices even has Coulson registered during the time he supposedly was recuperating…not even Tahiti."

"Then it wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D. that did it. It must have been an independent organization. That's why I had you click on the link for S.H.I.E.L.D. affiliated medical groups."

Ward shook his head. "Without that list, we can't get any further. We need someone with a level 9 clearance."

It snapped into Skye's head faster than she'd have liked. The idea was unthinkable. She knew it was against the rules entirely. None of them were supposed to know that Coulson was even still alive. His death had been the catalyst for the Avengers regrouping to defend New York. He had been their reason. Or at least _his_ reason.

"I know who we need," she announced, turning and starting out of the facility.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Ward shouted, chasing her outside to the bustling city streets. "You want to bring someone else in on this?"

"Did you ever read the official report on what happened in New York?"

He nodded. "It was required reading before I joined Coulson's team. When did you read it?"

"After I found out about Coulson being brought back to life, I asked him to show me the file and he leant it to me."

"You didn't have clearance," Ward said, furrowing his brows.

"Coulson didn't care," she scoffed, turning the corner at the end of the block.

"What did you find?"

"In the report, it states that one of the Avengers was able to hack the system while they were on board Fury's Helicarrier, which revealed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intentions for the Tesseract. He hacked all clearance levels within hours of boarding the Helicarrier."

Ward stopped. "No."

Skye glanced back at him. "He's our only chance if we want to find out what happened to Coulson."

"He doesn't even know Coulson's still alive. How do you think he's going to react?"

Skye glanced up at the tall skyscraper several blocks away, the lights at the top displaying 'STARK', the name of the person they needed burning boldly and brightly against the afternoon sky. "I'd hope he'd be relieved."

Ward exhaled and joined her. "Alright. Let's go ask the man in the iron suit."

* * *

He felt a breath of warm air on his face and nearly smiled. The sun fell over him like an orange blanket, heating his skin, rejuvenating him. He imagined the grainy warmth of the sand, the palm trees swishing in the breeze, the sound of the ocean rushing in his ears. Was this Tahiti? Had he actually gone?

But when he opened his eyes, it was a very different scene. The air event across the hospital room was blowing hot stale air into his room and the overhead lights practically penetrated him with their brightness. He took a husky breath and looked in the doorway of the room.

Fury stood there, regarding him with a toxic mixture of disappointment and pity.

He took a couple steps into the room and stood at the end of Coulson's bed. He regarded the untouched food tray sitting nearby and the horrible red gouge that traveled up his arm.

Coulson regarded him with watering eyes, and begged, "Please…just let me die."

Fury rounded the bed, his hand taking Coulson's undamaged one and squeezing it hard. He leaned into the agent's trembling form and said in a clear voice, "No."

The sudden contact suddenly jarred him from his sleep and he opened his eyes in a panic. It wasn't Fury's arrogant resolution that he saw standing over him. May was watching him, the last flicker of sadness quickly being replaced with something he dreaded even more; anger.

Before he could say anything, the pain returned to him in full, his skin on fire in the place where he'd unconsciously drug the knife through it. He closed his eyes and moaned.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she asked.

He cracked his eyes open again.

"I told you I was going to fix this," she said under her breath to him. "Don't I always fix things?"

"I wasn't even aware of what I was doing until…it was too late," he said, his breath raspy.

"You're slipping," she said.

Her observation made him shiver.

She continued. "The Coulson I knew would never have allowed this to happen. He was a good man. He knew the world kept spinning, he knew his place in it. He didn't question the way that things happened. He kept marching."

He frowned at her. "I'm so tired of marching to the beat of the same drums."

May took a deep breath and removed her hand from his. "It wasn't just S.H.I.E.L.D.'s drums you marched to. You had your own."

He cracked a humorless smile. "I don't hear them now. In fact, I'm not so sure it's as much of a drum as it is a…" his words faded as he recognized the irony of what he was about to say.

"Is a what?"

"A solo stroke of a cello."

She took a step away from the table. "You need to trust me, trust that I can do this for you."

"I never had any doubts…"

"You know Director Fury is going to find out about this."

"And when he does, he'll have to make a decision about whether he'll turn me back into the capable agent I once was, or if he's just going to give up…and let me rot in some room for the rest of my life."

"You know what he'll choose," May said sternly. "He didn't bring you back from the dead just to see you stumble and fall."

He took a sharp breath and said, "I know," his voice cracking slightly.

May patted his shoulder and started to step away. "Get some sleep."

He placed his good hand on hers, clutching at her fingers. "Thanks. Mel."

She let her fingers run through his hair for a moment and then turned back to the hall. Once she was around the corner, she fought the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. _You can do this. You will not fail him. You won't. _

_No._

* * *

Chapter 7 coming soon...


	7. Chapter 7

Apprentice of the Rocket Man by Angus Stone was the perfect inspiration for this hard-to-write chapter. And thank you, La Madone, for telling me to check my anonymous reviews... I honestly didn't know about that! haha. This chapter does contain spoilers from Iron Man 3. If you haven't seen it, DO IT NOW. Enjoy, guys.

* * *

"Did you sleep last night?"

The question would have been innocent, normally. Tony Stark had trouble answering it though. For the first time in a very long time last night, he'd closed his eyes and lost himself to the comforting blackness. After New York, and after everything that happened with The Mandarin and Aldrich Killian, he'd thought it might be beyond him. _No one can expect to sleep normally after going through that_, he'd rationalized with himself.

Once Pepper and Happy were in the clear, and things had begun to return to the way they were, he still hadn't slept. He knew Pepper knew. She didn't sleep much either. He was okay with it for a little while. They could be united in their sleep deprivation; work through these things together. But he'd slept last night.

And she hadn't.

So he didn't register the question when she asked it. She already knew. And what was the point of bringing it up at the end of the day?

They'd been apart since he'd crawled out of bed. She had her meetings. He had his. And now, after the day was coming to a close and all he wanted to do was spend time with her, and a couple of glasses of champagne…that was hanging in the mix now.

"Did you want some of this?" he asked, holding up the bottle. "Or am I going to have to drink in solitude tonight?"

There was a flicker of a pause. Just a flicker. And she smiled, her rose lips making his cheeks color. "Of course."

"Good answer." He grabbed a glass and poured the champagne into it. As he handed it to her, he leaned in and gave her a long kiss, tasting her, holding her. He had nearly lost her. And while he'd never said anything, all he'd thought about was what he'd have done if he'd lost her. He'd have been incomplete.

"That was nice," she commented when he broke away.

"I agree. In fact, I think drinking champagne and kissing _should_ be a nightly event. It's healthy. Good for the spark."

She rose an eyebrow. "The spark?"

"That…thing that people have in relationships that first attracts them to one another...that keeps them together."

"You mean honesty, trust, and understanding?" she listed.

"Well, when you put it all so literally..." He shrugged.

She smiled, and took a sip of her champagne. "You know what else is good for "the spark"? The occasional good night's sleep."

"You know," Tony spun and walked over to his desk, punching a few keys on the computer. "Vacations are also necessary."

"Where are you trying to whisk me off to now?" Pepper followed him. "And don't tell me its somewhere where you're going to have to be in meetings the entire time."

"Well, JARVIS will be there." He pulled up the website and spun the laptop around. "But he won't be able to partake in all the pleasures."

Pepper blinked. "Tahiti?"

"Someone suggested it recently."

"Someone?"

"It may have been one of those rookies at SHIELD. Said something about it being a "magical place". Whatever kind of loaded meaning that might be." Tony pretended to take a hit from an imaginary joint. "Still, seems…like it could be nice, right?"

Pepper tilted her head to the side. He knew that look; uncertainty.

"It could be a place to relax, to try and…forget…about what happened."

She scoffed. "It's not about forgetting; it's about being able to accept it, to move past it."

"Did I say 'forget'? I meant…"

Suddenly, the overhead com blipped to life. "I hate to interrupt, sir," JARVIS's precise voice chirped, "But two agents from S.H.I.E.L.D. are downstairs wishing to speak with you."

"Not now, JARVIS," Tony shouted.

Pepper started to turn around.

"Pepper, wait." He lightly grabbed her shoulder. "I just want to help."

"I'm afraid they are being rather insistent, sir," JARVIS relayed.

"When are they not?"

"Tony, just go talk to them," Pepper said, placing a hand on his chest, the blue light filtering between her fingers. "We'll talk about this later."

"They've come to speak to you about the invasion of New York."

Tony glanced up at the overhead speakers. "Another good reason to tell them I'm busy," he grumbled, starting to walk after Pepper. "Wait…"

She walked into the other room and closed the door behind her.

He grabbed the doorknob.

"Sir, they've come to talk to you about Agent Coulson."

His hand froze.

_Why would they want to talk about that? _Fury was there. He knew what happened. Everyone knew. Everyone had seen the agent's body, the body bag, and the blood. Just thinking about it immediately made his temper spike. The last time he and Pepper had enjoyed a glass of champagne together at home had been when Coulson had dropped in on them unexpectedly. It was the beginning of everything horrible that had happened with Loki.

"Sir?" JARVIS repeated. "What would you like me to do?"

He let his fingers slip from the doorknob. "Send 'em up."

* * *

Skye swallowed as she and Ward ascended in the elevator. She crossed and uncrossed her arms and tapped her foot.

Ward glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. "He's going to help us. You don't have to worry."

"It's not that," she said.

"Then…what?"

"I used to hate Tony Stark. When I was with Rising Tide, I listened to a lot of people tell me how terrible a person he was, not the least of which was self-obsessed and arrogant."

"So…you are worried about whether or not he'll help us," Ward assumed.

"I'm worried he's not going to take us seriously. I'm worried that he'll kick us out with our tails between our legs."

"Coulson spoke of him pretty highly."

"I guess I missed it in between all of the comments about him being annoying to a T," Skye said under her breath.

"We're in the elevator, aren't we?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors sliced open. Skye had expected the opulence, had expected the rich leather, the gorgeous view of the city, the sky beginning to darken and the lights popping on in the various buildings, and the sun burning like an ember close to the line between sky and earth.

She hadn't expected the shell-shocked look on Tony Stark's face. It was only in his eyes for a moment, as if he'd expected to see someone else entirely different when the doors had opened. It was gone before she could take a breath.

Ward stepped out of the elevator first and immediately took point. "Mr. Stark, I'm Agent Grant Ward with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Somehow I'd expected more…suits," Tony answered.

"And this is my team's consultant, Skye."

"Skye? One name; like Cher, huh?" he quipped.

Skye ground her teeth together.

Stark continued. "Consultant? I was called that once. Had to piss off a General and keep a rampant abomination locked up. Bought and destroyed a bar just for the fun of it. I miss those times."

_He's taking it all as a joke. Just like I thought he would. _"Agent Coulson brought me in," she said, crossing her arms.

Stark stiffened a little. "Before New York, you mean?"

"A couple months ago, actually."

Stark pointed at her. "Lying doesn't become you, Cher."

"Agent Coulson is alive, Mr. Stark," Ward reiterated.

Tony looked away, waving them off. "It's impossible. I saw him dead myself."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. brought him back."

A range of emotions crossed Stark's face in a matter of a few seconds: outrage, confusion, and sadness…and not the remotest glimmer of hope. It made Skye's own confidence in their decision to tell him dissolve.

"He's been alive this whole time. I can't help but notice that you're all telling me a little late."

"Director Fury never would have told you," Skye said.

"But you are. Why?"

"Because he needs our help. Your help."

"Did anyone tell the…cellist?"

Skye and Ward just looked at one another in confusion.

Stark cleared his throat. "If S.H.I.E.L.D. brought him back, then it's their mess to deal with. I've already had enough of jumping through their hoops." He turned and started walking away. "You can show yourselves out."

Skye stomped down the steps into the room, the anger making her skin grow hot. "I can't believe you'd just ignore him like that. After everything he's done for you."

Tony rounded on her. "I saved the world for him. To ask any more than that is pushing it."

"He was the reason you pulled your act together. But if he hadn't died, you'd have still fought tooth and nail to keep those alien armies out of New York," Ward said.

"If you could go back to that day on the Helicarrier, if you could save his life, wouldn't you at least try?" Skye pleaded.

Tony regarded her for a moment, their brown eyes scrutinizing each other's. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Something tells me you rarely are," she spat.

"He hasn't bothered to ask me himself, let alone tell me he's still alive and kicking. If that's how much our friendship meant to him, then I'm going to try not to take it personally," Stark growled.

"So that's what this is about? Him owing you something?" Skye narrowed her gaze. "Maybe I'm no expert, but I think the person who actually died trying to save the world should be the one owed something. Or are you just too butt hurt to care; to go out on a limb for someone you used to be friends with?"

"'Butt hurt?'" Tony repeated. "Did you just call me "butt hurt"?"

"Coulson spent last week in the desert being tortured by an organization that only wants to know how he came back from the dead," Ward announced.

Stark's eyes darkened.

"And no, he doesn't know. S.H.I.E.L.D. has kept it all from him."

"We need to find out what happened to him before…" Skye took a breath. "…Before we lose him again."

Stark stared down at her, his jaw set. She saw his facial muscles tense, his arms rigid. Finally, they'd struck a nerve.

"Where is he?" he finally said.

"On the Bus."

Stark just stared at her.

"It's our plane." Ward clarified. "At least that's where we last left him. We're on the ground at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s base"

"Give me some time to get some stuff together and I'll meet you back there in an hour."

Skye nodded and turned to join Ward on the stairs.

"And hey, Cher?"

She turned.

"He's lucky to have you looking out for him."

She wished she could smile. But knots of worry were tied throughout her system. So she turned and waved Ward toward the elevator.

* * *

Chapter 8 to come soon...


	8. Chapter 8

Human by Daughter (AN AMAZING SONG) is the inspiration here...continuing into Chapter 9 which will be up tomorrow. Enjoy.

* * *

The next time Coulson opened his eyes, he found himself alone. A toxic mixture of sadness and freedom rushed through his blood as he took a large breath. He'd had eyes on him for the last several hours. He'd felt them traveling up and down his body, scrutinizing him and his actions. The absence of privacy only sent him reeling back to before, to everything he wanted to forget. Couldn't they see they were smothering him? Couldn't they see he was on the edge and about to tip?

_Of course they can_, he rationalized with himself. _It's why they are there._

_They care._

He sat up on the bed and regretted it almost instantly as his stomach pitched violently. He winced as he got to his feet, his legs tingling with the sudden sensation of being upright again. He leaned on the bed and carefully pulled the IV needle from his good arm. His left arm burned with any movement. He let it hang limply at his side as he plodded from the medical room out into the open corridor.

No sign of FitzSimmons anywhere. Would they have just left him alone like that? He decided he didn't care. This was his chance.

_I'm sorry, May. I've got no other choice. I have to leave. Now._

* * *

Simmons stepped out of her room and slid the door closed behind her.

_Jolly good time to get a headache_, she thought moving to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Her vision dropped on the old bloodspots in the carpet. Someone had swept up the mug shards and deposited them on the counter. The sink was now spotless, shining, the horror of the earlier event erased. She eased open the door to the dishwasher and saw it full to the brim with clean dishes. The incriminating knife poked out of the holder closest to her.

She closed the door and hugged herself. She'd examined him after the desert, checked his vitals, applied the bandages and asked the routine questions. Coulson was a good actor. He'd answered every single one of them with monosyllabic answers and his face had never lost its expression of being totally in control. He hid it well.

_He had to_, Simmons reasoned, taking a sip from her water. He was their commanding officer. And after everything he'd been through, he had an obligation to exude strength and discipline over emotion.

As she made her way toward the lab, she thought about the clean dishes up in the break room. It was funny that Coulson had quipped about her lab partner's cleaning habits. _Typical boy_, she thought with a chuckle. Ever since she'd known him he'd been horrible at cleaning up after himself. A thread of pity pulled through her at his reaction to what Coulson had done. _He'd felt so bad. Doesn't surprise me his first priority would be to clean up the—_

Her thought vanished completely as she noticed the empty medical bay. She jogged to it, checking the sides of the hospital bed, the bloodied IV needle resting on the tangled sheet. Coulson was gone.

"Fitz!" she yelled.

Not a moment later, the young man came sprinting into the lab from the other end of the corridor, his eyes immediately locking on the empty bed. "Where'd he go?"

"That's what I was going to ask you! You promised you wouldn't leave him!"

"He was asleep. I wanted to clean up the mess just in case the others got back and saw it. I wasn't gone for more than fifteen minutes."

"What were you doing down there, then?"

He shrugged. "I've been holding it for nearly an hour, Jemma!"

She spun toward the front of the plane. "We've got to tell May!"

As they sprinted toward the front of the plane, the rumble of an engine echoed from the entrance ramp. "Oh, god!" she shouted.

Their shoes slapped on the metal floors as they came into view of the cargo bay. The red convertible's thruster engines blazed hot as the car zoomed out of the open cargo bay door and disappeared into the deep navy sky.

Both of them stared after it for a time before Simmons finally said, "Damn it."

* * *

"You actually let him out of your sight?" May chastised later as they stalked down the corridor to Coulson's room. Inside was just what she'd expected. His closet door was open with clothes strewn about and several of his antique gadgets missing, including his signature side arm. She'd have expected he'd take the entire arsenal. But he hadn't. He wasn't trying to appear threatening and she knew why. Fury was going to come after him with everything he had.

"We could track Coulson's phone," Fitz suggested, his tone hopeful.

May walked over to the bed and picked up a mobile phone with the battery removed in the covers. "You mean this one?"

"Lola can be tracked," Simmons offered.

"He'll dump the car before we even get eyes on it." May left the room, shaking her head.

Fitz's eyes bugged. "What? Dump Lola? How could he?"

"She's just a car."

"It would still give us a place to start looking," Simmons said.

"Neither of you get it," May muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"The longer we take to find Coulson, the better."

"He just tried to kill himself!" Simmons argued, her face reddening. "How could you say something like that?"

May opened her mouth but the sound of footsteps coming up the walkway alerted her. Finally, Ward and Skye were back. She could fill them in on things and find out what they'd found out. She turned and stopped dead in her tracks.

Nick Fury was walking up the ramp flanked by several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. His expression was always the same; a cocktail of discontent and aggravation, all squarely directed at her. But it wasn't so much how he looked as it was the meaning of his sudden presence. He'd heard about Phil. That's why he'd brought the reinforcements. Their goal had always been to take him. The little office visit was just a red herring. His appearance now proved that he'd known beforehand that Coulson was losing it. And she hadn't been the one to tell him.

"Agent May," he addressed as he finally came to a stop in front of her. "Agents Simmons and Fitz."

"Director Fury," Simmons and Fitz stammered.

"I came here for Agent Coulson."

Fitz rubbed a hand through his hair. "You've just missed him."

"And where might I ask was he headed?" Fury questioned.

"We don't know," Simmons intoned sadly.

Fury locked his eyes on May again. "May?"

She stayed silent. She had to give Phil as much time as possible to get a head start.

He took a step closer to her. She didn't think it was possible for him to look anymore infuriated. She was wrong. "Did I not ask loud enough?"

"He didn't tell me," she said.

Fury's jaw clenched as he waved to the agents behind him. They pushed past FitzSimmons, heading straight for Coulson's room. Next, he pointed to the two younger agents and said, "Get tracking up on that damn car of his. I want it found now."

The director waited until Fitz and Simmons were out of hearing range before he added, "And you and I will be having a discussion once we've dragged him back here. Until then, you and the bus stay in New York, in my sight at all times. Is that clear?"

One of her brows moved slightly. "Crystal."

"Good," he growled and pushed around her to join the other agents in Coulson's room.

May's thoughts touched briefly on the phone Coulson had left in his room. Ducking into one of the side rooms, she quickly pushed the battery back in with her thumb and turned it on. Within moments of searching the history, she found an unmarked text message.

"M, keep them off my back. Looking for my drumbeat. Be back soon. – P."

She smirked a little as she slipped the SIM card out of the phone and crushed it beneath her fingers. She then joined Fury in his fruitless search of Agent Coulson's belongings.


	9. Chapter 9

Still more inspiration from Human by Daughters and a little from Lola by The Kinks! The fic is taking a turn I hadn't originally planned when I'd started out but that's the fun of writing, isn't it? To be surprised by where the characters take you!

Ana- To answer your question, there are hints of a May/Coulson romance but there is also another Coulson/OC romance (something I hadn't planned when I'd originally started the fic). Coulson's been speaking to me in my head and this is what he wants, haha. But don't worry, there are still plenty of moments to come both good and bad.

* * *

Lola glided through the warm night air, leaving the city far behind and soon finding itself gliding above a current of woods, the tree tops fuzzily rushing by beneath. Coulson took deep breaths, the adrenaline the only thing keeping him going. He had to get as far as he could under the cover of darkness. Traveling during the day was going to be more risky, especially with a red car.

_A red car that flies,_ he added to that thought.

He was going to have to leave the car and continue the rest of the way without it. He slid his hand over the dash. May had always called it "just a car." She didn't understand how long it had been with him, nor how much it meant to him. But May wasn't the type to get attached to things. She barely got attached to people. And she was right to a degree. Compared with everything he might lose if he was caught in it, it _was_ just a car. If he wanted to find out what happened to him, if he was ever going to return to the man he once was and come to terms with what happened to him, he was going to need to leave it behind.

_Just for a little while_.

Coulson banked the car hard to the left, following the road as it stretched further back into farm country. If he was lucky, he'd have a couple hours, maybe more before Fury caught on to the fact he'd gone missing. If May had gotten his message. Fitz and Simmons had seen him leave and there was every possibility they had alerted the Director themselves without consulting May. He had to be ready for that.

As if by some form of magic, a sensor started beeping on the dash. Coulson glanced at the screen and saw in bold words, "TRACKING ENGAGED" highlighted on it.

"Should have given him more credit than I did," he said under his breath.

A sudden sputtering from one of Lola's thrusters made him jerk around in his seat. The hot light emanating from the rear passenger side was losing its color, evaporating. _Shit… _They'd cut the power to one of them remotely. _Could they do that? _he considered. _They can. Safety precaution with remote access installed in the Bus…in case someone takes off in Lola without my say-so._ Fury was using it against him.

The car started losing altitude, dropping slowly toward the road. They were forcing him down.

* * *

"Did you find that car yet?" Fury thundered back into the main room, his presence like a bolt of lightning in the midst of the unsettling atmosphere.

Fitz nodded and pulled up the image on the screens behind them. "Lola flew north, past White Plains, crossed the Hudson River, and is now over West Milford."

"That's pretty isolated countryside," Simmons said.

Fury rolled his eyes. "And here I was thinking that West Milford was the boomberg of Western New York."

"What should we do now?" Fitz asked.

"The car can't stay in the air all night. The minute it sets down, you—"

"Technically, it can stay in the air for quite a while," Fitz interrupted him. "It could probably stay in flight for the next six or seven hours easily."

Fury frowned. He had to hand it to the technology of Stark Industries. At the same time, he wanted to curse them. They'd just made things more difficult for him. "Is there any safe way that we can get that car on the ground sooner than that?"

"There's a possibility that if we cut…" Fitz began before he abruptly stopped talking. Fury followed his eyes back to May who was staring him down from the doorway.

Fury approached Fitz. "You think she's going to kick your ass if you say something… You don't _want_ to know what I'm going to do if you don't complete that sentence, Agent."

"He was going to say that if we cut power to one of the thrusters in the car, it would force Agent Coulson to land," Simmons finished for him, her tone acidic as she looked at May.

Fury sensed there had been some kind of disagreement between the two before he'd shown up on the Bus. He'd heard shouting and knew the subject was about Coulson, but he had absolutely no desire to get in the middle of that cat fight at the moment.

"You're sure he wouldn't crash if we did that?"

"There's always a possibility," Fitz said. "If he's going too fast and loses altitude too quickly…"

"Well, how about this? Let's _not_ send Agent Coulson to a fiery death by cutting his power, shall we?" Fury remarked. "I would like him back here preferably in one piece. Let's find another way to—"

"Cut the power," a voice boomed from behind Fury. He spun around.

A tall, broad-shouldered man was standing just inside the doorway, impeccably dressed. He had shark eyes, black and emotionless, his silver hair neatly combed. Standing so near to May made him look like a giant in a room full of insects.

Fury frowned. "Council member Rickard."

Rickard let a lazy smile cross his face, one that Fury could read the malice behind oh, too well. He hadn't seen that face nor had to endure his intimidating presence since the cleanup of New York after the Chitauri invasion.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Rickard commented, his bass voice, like the rumble of approaching thunder.

Fury turned to May. "This is World Security Council Member Manuel Rickard. These are Agents May, Fitz, and Simmons."

"Pleasure," Rickard said, walking straight passed Fury to Fitz. "Deactivate that thruster, now."

"Do not follow that order, Agent," Fury commanded, approaching Rickards. "What gives you the right to walk in here and take my command from me?"

"The World Security Council has made a unanimous decision that your Agent Coulson is a man with dangerous knowledge. He's just slipped out from between your fingers and is now headed who knows where. He poses a threat to the security of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Council."

"Dangerous knowledge, my ass," Fury raged. "He's ill and he needs treatment. That's all we're trying to facilitate here."

Rickard leaned in close to Fury, his deadly gaze locking on the Director's. "I knew you'd be too close to this to see what needed to be done. Whatever happens to him now is on your conscience."

"You and the Council approved giving him that second chance, so it's just as much on your's."

"I agreed based on your bullet-proof assurance that he wouldn't remember anything."

"And he hasn't remembered it all yet. There's still time to fix this without doing something we're going to regret. He's one of the best agent's S.H.I.E.L.D. has."

"Well, like Agent…Fitz, wasn't it? Like Agent Fitz said, there's a possibility that Agent Coulson will land and be entirely fine. I don't care either way. If you can't bring him back here, I'll have no choice than to put him down like an old dog."

Fury's face was boiling. He clenched his fists at his sides.

"Careful," Rickard warned, spotting his clenched hands, "Old dogs can still be neutered, too."

Without another word, he sidestepped Fury and returned his attention to Fitz. "Cut the thruster. Now." He spun toward the door. "And as for you, Agent M—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Fury glanced up and noticed that May was no longer lingering in the doorway.

A pinprick allowed the tiniest essence of hope to filter into Fury's system.

Rickard snapped at one of Fury's agents. "Find her."

* * *

Coulson cursed, firing up the remaining thruster as hot as he could without it overheating, trying to balance the car's weight as it started descending toward the road. Alarms blared as he lost altitude, the car tilting to the left despite the adjustments.

_I'm should have slowed down. I'm going down too fast._

The car fell past the tree-line and the strong scent of pine buzzing in his head and sending the memories flying through his brain like snapshots. Ultra bright colors interposed with metal, with warm sun and cold glaring lights. Palm trees shattered apart into evergreens and the glittering sand paled into snow.

The ground grew closer. And closer.

_No!_

An arm swooped around his chest suddenly, ripping him from the driver's seat of the car. He was too slow to know what was happening or to grab his bag from the passenger seat. He yelped as the car dropped out beneath him and he found himself floating in the air anchored to something. He looked over his shoulder.

"Agent," Stark said through the thick face plate of his Iron Man suit. "Long time no see."

The relief and terror were short when he heard the car crash into the pavement below. Metal screeched and twisted as the car flipped on its side, tumbling in a psychotic death roll before settling in a ditch at the side of the road.

* * *

RIP Lola! But don't worry; if Coulson can come back from the dead...so can Lola. Tease, tease. Chapter 10 will be up later today...


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10's inspiration comes from Munich by Editors.

Thanks again for the reviews. After seeing Coulson's reaction to the very mention of the Cellist in "The Magical Place", I thought it merited more of an investigation. It seems like there is a real, genuine love and a strong connection there before everything happened in New York that I really wanted to explore. But I agree with you all; there is definitely romantic tension between Coulson and May that most definitely deserves to be expanded upon, too.

* * *

Fury jerked as he watched the signal from Coulson's car plow into the earth and violently cut off.

"NO!" Simmons shrieked in front of him.

Fitz was stunned into silence, his eyes watering as they stared at the screen.

Fury turned, his unbridled ferocity focused at Rickard. "You bastard!"

Rickard cocked his head. "You knew the risk. Better send that pick up team in quick. After all, if Coulson really is the James Bond you make him out to be, I wouldn't be surprised if he had ejector seats in that thing." The Councilman turned and stalked out of the room.

Fury reached out to Simmons who ran from the room, tears spilling down her cheeks. Fitz still hadn't moved. He looked numb. Fury put his hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault, Agent. Rickard ordered it."

Fitz trembled and put his hands to his mouth. "I…I…"

"There's still a chance he's not dead. We won't know anything until we get in there." Fury glanced back at the screen for only a second more before he gave the orders for the S.H.I.E.L.D. team to converge on the area.

* * *

Coulson struggled in Stark's arms, the wind gusting over him as he stared down at his destroyed car. "Could you put me down?" he shouted.

Iron Man brought the Agent down to the road and let go of him just before landing himself. Coulson barely landed on his feet, leaning forward to catch himself and then straightening. The low groan of the car settling into the ditch left him speechless. He took several steps toward it before hunching his shoulders in defeat.

He heard the clomp, clomp of Stark's footsteps in the suit behind him as he came up behind him. "Sorry about your…"

"Lola," Coulson whimpered.

"Yeah."

Coulson turned back to Stark and crossed his arms. The cut on his arm reminded him of the earlier events of that day and he falteringly let his arms fall to his sides. "What…How are you…Why did you…"

"All excellent questions," Stark answered, removing the faceplate from his suit. "I've got similar ones."

"Did May send you?"

"I don't know who that is. But Agent Stick-Up-His-Butt and Cher showed up at my place to tell me the great news about you being alive. It kind of ruined my plans for a romantic evening with Pepper."

"Sorry," Coulson apologized. "I seem to make a habit of doing that to you."

"Suppose it could have been worse news," Tony answered, shrugging.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"JARVIS picked up a reading from your car's heat signature. He kept needling me to investigate. I was on my way over to your "bus". I wanted to get there before your people got back; figured we could use a little time alone to talk about some things."

"Admit it; you wanted to cold cock me," Coulson said, reading Stark's eyes. While the millionaire was usually skilled at hiding his feelings behind cynicism and humor, he could tell he was having a hard time doing that now.

Tony's eyes brightened. "Oh, yeah, that reminds me…" He disengaged the armor from his right hand and dropped it on the asphalt. Coulson barely had time to blink before Tony was swinging his fist at Coulson's mouth. It connected hard and sent him stumbling back.

He swore, holding his now throbbing jaw. "Shouldn't have said anything," he mumbled to himself. "Feel better?"

"No, not really," Tony admitted, shaking his hand a little. "I'd kick your ass a little more but it looks like someone's already done the job for me."

Coulson stood and rubbed his tongue over his teeth. One of his bottom molars had chipped and he spit the piece of tooth out. "You're paying for my dental bills."

"Somehow, I think it will be a matter of if you can even walk into a dentist's office without S.H.I.E.L.D. knowing about it."

Coulson perked an eyebrow. "You know what's happening?"

"A lucky guess. Pepper always said you were such a careful driver. I figured you might have had some help with that," Stark said, pointing to the ruined convertible. "Which, by the way…what the hell is with the flying car?"

"It was a welcome back present from the agency. A, you know, "thanks for dying to save the world" gift. She was really quite something."

Stark stared off into the sky. "The most I ever got was a free meal at Shawarma's."

"Oh, I love Shawarma's. Best chicken sandwich I've ever had," Coulson agreed.

"What do you say we get out of here and we can talk more back at the Tower?" Stark suggested.

"I can't. I've got to stay under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. The moment they find out Skye and Ward visited you, they'll know you know."

"So what if I know? Fury knows I'm not the poster child for following agency protocol. The most he'll probably do is stand there and utter mean words under his breath."

"They can't find me." When Stark's gaze was questioning, Coulson added, "There's a lot to explain."

"Then, we'll go somewhere else. What's the closest town?"

"I think it's something like "Milford". I was looking at it in the car before the crash."

"Okay," Stark said, holding out a hand.

Coulson regarded it. "You're serious?"

"Do you want to walk, Phil?"

Coulson took a deep breath. His head was starting to pound from Stark's punch and the last of the pain medication was wearing off. His arm felt like it was on fire. Not to mention that Fury had probably already sent agents to the crash area."

"Okay, sure." He accepted Tony's hand.

"It's the happiest day of my life, Phil," Stark commented sarcastically, putting the armor for his hand back on.

"Just shut up and fly."

* * *

Skye peeked around the corner of the building cautiously, her gaze locked on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters. Just as she and Ward had started walking up the block, they'd noticed a number of mobilized units come screaming out of an underground garage and fly down the street past them. Though she wanted to believe that the odds were high that it had nothing to do with their visit to Stark or why May had suddenly left, she had a hard time believing it.

She walked back to Ward who was crouched in the shadows, talking lowly on his phone. He hung up when she got closer. "So what do you think? Should we try and get back to the Bus?"

He shook his head. "Mel said to hang back. She said some big wig from the World Security Council just boarded the Bus demanding to have Coulson either put down or put in custody."

Skye's face went cold. "What? 'Put him down'? As in kill him?"

Ward nodded. "Coulson got out before Director Fury got there and May managed to slip out while they weren't watching. Fitz and Simmons are still on the Bus."

"We've got to get to them."

"May wants us to meet her a couple blocks from here."

"What about Coulson?"

"She says they took Lola out of the sky just before she left. He could be in trouble."

Skye fought to keep breathing. Last night everything had been somewhat normal, a pattern she'd settled into. It was all messed up now and nothing felt as if it could get better. "We'd better get going then." She cleared her throat. "Which way should we go?"

Ward put a hand on her arm. "We're going to find him. We're going to fix this."

His certainty and determination had always assured her before. There was something so stable about Ward. He was the rock in the midst of the storm and wild winds. But she couldn't help but let the panic fold over her. There were so many factors that she didn't know, least of all what had happened to Coulson to make the agency want to hunt him down. Being in the dark wasn't helping at all.

All of a sudden, she snapped upright. "Crap, we sent Stark to the Bus! He's not going to be able to help us."

Ward turned her around and they started across the street toward May's meeting spot. "Stark can look after himself. He's more than capable enough to handle Fury. I've read the reports," he said with a smirk.

Skye felt deflated as she nodded. "But now, we're up a creek without a multi-million dollar computer genius."

"You can get us in. We just have to get that bracelet off. Hopefully May has some kind of answer for that."

"Hopefully she has more than just an answer for that," Skye responded, not entirely convinced that the quiet and stony agent had been completely honest with them from the get go. She planned on finding out no matter what the cost.

* * *

Chapter 11 will come tomorrow. I've been sitting in the same place all day and my back is killing me! I need to get up and move around, ha ha. Unless I get up bright and early tomorrow morning...expect an update tomorrow evening.


	11. Chapter 11

Pinesong by A Fine Frenzy is the inspiration here. This was a hard chapter to write. Thank you guys for the reviews and enjoy!

* * *

"So," Stark said, after taking a large bite from a burger. "I think we should start with an apology."

They had flown from the car crash site nearly twenty miles north west, landing on the edge of a town. Coulson wasn't sure if it was Milford or not; he hadn't cared. Being in flight with Stark had made his stomach revolve endlessly. Although he'd been hungry when they'd sat down, he now couldn't even entertain the thought of eating. The smell of the plate of ribs in front of him made him cringe, but his stomach betrayed his head, growling in desire. _Still haven't eaten anything all day…_

"You sure you don't want something else?" Tony asked.

Coulson shook his head.

"Fries? Loaded baked potato? Caesar Salad?"

"No, stop. I feel like I just flew on the wing of a plane. I can barely stand to watch you eat let alone eat myself."

"Suit yourself. Now, what was I saying? Oh, yeah; an apology would be nice."

"What? Punching me in the face wasn't satisfying enough?"

"Mildly," Stark allowed. "It still doesn't change the facts: Fury used your death to muster the Avengers for that last hoorah in New York."

"I gave him the idea." Coulson frowned. "At least, I think I did. I don't remember much."

"Point is that you were dead. Now, you're alive and you weren't going to tell us."

Coulson read the tone of offense in Stark's eyes. He wasn't saying "us". He was saying "me".

"You weren't supposed to know."

"The protocol crap, Coulson? Really?" Stark put the burger down on the plate and leaned in. "_I_ nearly died in New York. Did they tell you that?"

Coulson stared down at his lap. "It was in the official report."

"Was the PTSD in the report, too? The months I spent trying to grapple with everything that happened, including losing a friend?"

Coulson sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark."

"No. Not "Mr. Stark". "I'm sorry, Tony." That's only fair."

"I'm sorry, _Tony_."

Stark nodded. "Okay. It's a good start." He took a sip of his beer. "Now, it's your turn. You can start by explaining how you're still in one piece. Last time, I saw you Loki had made a shish kabob out of you on his scepter and now, you…you're…"

_Don't make me think about then. _"I died. S.H.I.E.L.D. brought me back," Coulson said, shortly.

"No shit, Sherlock. I want to know how. I want to know why."

"Because…" Coulson started and trailed off. It was exactly what the Clairvoyant had wanted to know. It was what he wanted to know. Everyone on a mad search for an answer that didn't seem to exist. But it wasn't the how of Stark's question that had him reeling but the why.

_Why? Why me? _Fury had told him he was invaluable to the agency, that he was his "good eye." But if it had been anyone else, any other agent, even any of the Avengers, would S.H.I.E.L.D. have gone to such trouble to bring them back to "restore the man they once were" in Doctor Streiten's words? What was it about his service to S.H.I.E.L.D. that had made him so valuable to them, valuable enough to rip him out of whatever comes after death?

Coulson couldn't stop the slipstream of memories from cascading through his head. First was the sharp burst of Loki's scepter tearing his heart in half. Emptiness, ebbing in his fingertips, the only strength just barely enough to be able to pull the trigger on the gun. Next, the chill of what should have been death as they kept him alive on machines, keeping him breathing as they dug around inside him with every tool imaginable. And lastly that horrible room, the place where the old Phil, the one who had always believed in heroes and good causes finally died.

_Don't fight it, Agent Coulson. Stop fighting it. _

He was reborn in that place, becoming this…thing that they had manipulated and used for themselves. The violation was so intrusive, so horrific... He couldn't fathom the kind of person that would be able to sleep with the knowledge that they'd...

Stark grabbed Coulson's wrist suddenly. "Phil?"

Coulson shook his head a little. "What?"

Stark motioned to Coulson's hand.

He looked down. He'd grabbed the the steak knife from the table and clenched it in his hand. The blade was biting into the heel of his hand. He dropped the knife and quickly pressed a napkin to the new wound. He glanced up at Stark whose gaze had lost any and all sarcasm, humor, or wit. He looked haunted.

Coulson pulled out of Stark's grip, got up, and left the restaurant, ignoring Stark's plea for him to stop. As he pushed out into the night, he took long deep breaths, trying to calm the riptide of memories that threatened to drag him away from reality.

The restaurant door squeaked open behind him. He knew without looking that it was Stark.

"I'm sorry," he said, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose. "Sometimes I just can't stop from remembering…"

"Let me look at it." Stark approached him and took his wrist again, pulling back the suit jacket. He stopped when the base of the red gouge from earlier was revealed. "What's that?"

Before Coulson could protest, Stark tore the buttons, yanking the shirt sleeve back farther to reveal the horrid gouge from earlier. Fresh blood had stained the sleeve and dripped from the sides of it.

"Jesus, Phil, why didn't you say something?!"

"It happened earlier. I couldn't control it..."

"Did you try to...?"

Coulson couldn't answer him.

"Your stitches have ripped."

"Probably when you yanked me out of my car earlier."

"We've got to get you cleaned up," Stark said. "Hang on, I'll put on the suit. I can fly us to the closest hosp—"

"You can't," Coulson protested, his voice cracking. "S.H.I.E.L.D. _can't_ find me."

"Phil, I know that they lied to you. That girl working for you, Skye? She told me they kept secrets from you. And, I'll admit, them totaling your car was a little intense. But Fury—"

"They altered my memories, Stark!" he all but shouted, making his friend jerk back suddenly and let go. "They put false images inside my head, played around with it until they got back exactly what they wanted; a model agent, someone who wasn't going to ask any questions or make things difficult for them."

"They brainwashed you? Like _Manchurian Candidate_, "I'll show you the Queen of Diamonds and you'll go off and murder someone" brainwashing?"

Coulson leaned over, hands on his legs, trying to calm the dizziness he was suddenly experiencing. "Yes...no...I don't know." When Stark didn't say anything, he elaborated. "They made me think I was in Tahiti, sipping Mai Tai's and getting massages…"

Stark frowned. "Tahiti?"

"It's a magical…" Coulson closed his mouth and set his jaw, trying hard not to break the sickening pattern they'd programmed for him. He still thought it. _…place. _He collapsed on his hands and knees, trying to hold in the frustration and pain.

Stark crouched next to him on the sidewalk. "But you remember now what happened?"

Coulson nodded again, feeling like a child.

Stark started to say something. The diner door opened and a group exited, laughing among themselves.

"Come on, this town's got to have a motel somewhere. We can talk there more."

"No," Coulson refused, trying to find the strength to get to his feet. "If S.H.I.E.L.D. has already reached Lola, then they'll be on their way here next. They're going to comb everywhere in a fifty yard radius because they'll know I couldn't have gotten far on foot."

"Then, we'll fly. I can get us to Pennsylvania."

"If I go up in the air with you again, I'm going to puke."

Tony cringed and stuck his tongue out a little. "Nope. Whole lotta nope."

Coulson looked up, scanning the street front of the restaurant. He pointed to a black Toyota Camry just beyond the bright street lights. "That one."

Stark's eyes fell on the car then back to Coulson. "Did you just tell me to steal a car?"

"I thought you'd approve."

"I do, I'm just…not used to you not being a boy scout about breaking the law." He offered his hand and Coulson took it, getting wearily to his feet. The closer they got to the car, the more Tony cringed.

"What?" Coulson asked.

"Why not get something with some horsepower, a little bit of pizzazz? Like that one?" He pointed to a burnt orange convertible further up the street. "That looks like it could have us where we need to be in half the time that this soccer mom car would."

"How many times do I need to explain that I'm on the run from a government agency?" Coulson rolled his eyes. "I already have one of the richest men in the world with one of the most recognizable faces trying to help me. I don't need to stand out anymore than that."

"You do make a good point."

"Besides, the Camry is one of the most popular nondescript cars in America. It'll be easier to lose ourselves in traffic with it."

"JARVIS, let's suit up," Stark ordered and pressed a button. Within moments, the suit seemed to unfold from thin air and envelope his jeans, t-shirt, head and neck. He grabbed the door handle and gave it a timid pull, breaking the lock. After he'd unlocked the other door, he let Coulson climb in.

"At least, if I bleed in here, it won't be your upholstery to clean," Coulson chuckled, closing his eyes and leaning back in the seat.

"Blood is blood. That doesn't matter to me." Tony turned to him suddenly. "But if you puke..."

"I'll try to refrain."

Stark pushed a couple fingers to the keyslot and said, "Okay, JARVIS, time for a little grand theft auto."

"And I thought this modification was rather pointless," JARVIS commented as a long flat blade appeared from the tip of the iron suit's fingers and entered the keyslot. With a little twisting, the car's engine turned over in a healthy rumble.

"So, Agent, where exactly are we heading?"

Coulson stared into space for a moment.

"I need a heading, Captain," Stark said in a mock pirate tone.

"You remember when you offered to fly me to Portland?"

"I think the operative word in that sentence was "fly"."

The agent nodded resolutely. "Portland. That's where we're going."

"Keeping love alive?"

Coulson opened his mouth but decided not to say anything. It was a selfish idea, his whole thought to run away, to find her in Portland and see her once again. He hoped that it would be enough to save his life.

* * *

Sorry that it took me a little longer to get this chapter up than I'd intended. I've been neglecting authory stuff and needed to attend to that. This was also a tough chapter for me to write. I had to rewatch The Avengers for a little inspiration and to get a refresher on the relationship between Coulson and Stark. I'm going to try and work more on Chapter 12 tonight; don't know how much I'm going to get done as I do still have important blogging stuff to do. If not tonight; tomorrow morning. Thanks, guys!


	12. Chapter 12

Before My Time by J. Ralph featuring Scarlet Johansson (AKA Black Widow!) is the inspiration here. To answer your questions, it is always _possible_ that the other Avengers could show up. I didn't plan on it though. But who knows? This fic has taken some surprising turns so far. Hoping to have chapter 13 up tomorrow evening! Thanks for the reviews, guys! Enjoy!

* * *

Fury had been pacing for the last fifteen minutes, his heartbeat thrumming in his head. The squad team would be at the crash site soon. He'd have an answer, one that would either curtail his night dramatically or send it on in an abysmally long pursuit of his trusted right hand man.

Fitz was still at the screens, monitoring traffic cameras of the area in an attempt to get a glimpse of the wrecked vehicle. He hadn't said a word but the quiet determination on his face told Fury that he was not going to give up on his boss just yet.

"Team Echo, what is your status?" Fury asked once more into the comm.

"Sir, we've made visual contact with the crash site."

The words made Fury's blood turn to ice. "Is Agent Coulson in the car?"

"We're closing in…" Seconds passed and Fury could barely stand it. Then the answer came, like a stone dropping into a pond. "Negative, sir, he's not at the crash site."

For a shred of a second, he could barely feel the ground beneath him as his elation lifted him up. Fitz gasped and relief spread over his perspiring face.

Then, it was all business. Coulson wasn't in the clear yet. He had to find him and get him back before Rickard tracked him down first. He knew of Rickard's determination, had read files about him from when he'd been in combat. He never missed an opportunity to bring down an enemy target and was known for being completely fine with the idea of civilian casualties, as long as their enemy was obliterated.

"Not much time for celebration," he said, making eye contact with Fitz. "We still have to find him." Fury turned back to his comms. "Scan the wreckage. See what your team can find that might tell us where he's gone."

"That won't be necessary," Rickard announced, walking through the doors.

"What do you mean?"

"I got a report a little over ten minutes ago that a couple of Coulson's lackey's paid a visit to Stark Tower earlier this evening. Ms. Potts said that Stark left shortly after."

Fury wasn't sure whether to laugh or groan. Tony Stark was a perpetual thorn in his side, always with a smart quip and always at the ready to break the rules. But he knew he also cared about Coulson and there was no one better to protect him from Rickard than Iron Man. Unfortunately, it meant that Coulson could be anywhere outside of the 50 mile radius that he'd implemented the search.

"I want S.H.I.E.L.D. tracking every wireless camera, every cell phone photo, every live feed out there. Search for facial similarities," Rickard ordered.

"Coulson won't come up for air that quickly. He knows we used this trick on Loki before."

"I don't want you to search for Coulson's face," Rickard rumbled. "I want you to search for Stark's."

Fury drew a deep breath. Coulson's greatest asset was about to become his greatest weakness.

* * *

Skye stared up from the darkened backseat of the car as May and Ward talked quietly in the front. Upon reaching May's location, she informed them that Coulson had escaped Rickard's attempt to kill him and Skye was once again able to breathe easier. It was also revealed that S.H.I.E.L.D. now believed him to be with Stark. They were instructed to change their clothes and dispose of any tech on them. When Skye had lifted the bracelet and stared at May with a frown, the stony agent leaned in and said, "Deactivate bracelet."

"Really?" Sky grumbled, rubbing her wrist as May pulled it off.

"Coulson thought you'd like that."

And they were on their way, after confiscating a dinky little red Saab from a bohemian couple visiting the city for the first time. Skye picked through the junk in the backseat, quickly finding discarded joints, old soda cans, and a stack of music magazines that had slid under May's seat.

They'd been driving for what felt like hours. All she knew was that they had made it across the bridge and out of the city. She had been trying to keep eyes on all the signs that went by but she found she was exhausted. After everything that had happened, she just wanted things to be as they were. She wanted normalcy, craved some kind of peace. And she knew, judging by May's silence that she wasn't going to get any of that.

"What did Coulson tell you about the desert?" she voiced suddenly, her eyes watching May's in the rearview mirror.

The older agent's gaze met hers but she didn't say anything.

"Don't you want to know?" Skye asked Ward, who glanced back at her hesitantly. "Shouldn't we at least all be on the same page. That way we can actually work like a team and not feel like we're completely in the dark."

"You know what happened out there," May clipped. "You saw what happened to him on that table."

"But I want to know what he told you. What he pulled you into his office to talk to you about this morning."

"That was a private conversation."

"Private or not," Ward said, butting in before Skye could say anything else, "We should know. We're a team, aren't we?"

May took a deep breath, her shoulders stiffening.

Skye leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "Guess we're not," she muttered.

"He told me Tahiti was a lie," May said finally.

Skye took a breath and couldn't release it. "A lie?" she repeated.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. covered it up, gave him some pretty pictures of being on an island thousands of miles away to try and mask the trauma he went through."

Skye found herself suddenly back in that room, staring down at Coulson as he squirmed on Raina's terrible table, bound by restraints. She clenched her fist, nearly feeling it crash into Raina's face again, that satisfying crunch as knuckle connected with the soft cartilage of her nose. But then his voice…it reached out to her and took hold of her, it made her falter for a moment, that terrible moment that seemed to be eternal.

"What happened in there?" Ward asked, completely out of the loop.

"He was begging to die," Skye whispered, trying to hold back the fresh slash of sadness.

"He said he'd visited the doctor who'd performed the surgery on him. He found out even more," May said through clenched teeth.

"Enough with the suspense, Mel. Just tell us," Ward said under his breath, clearly upset.

May slammed on the brakes. Cars behind them, honked and angry drivers swerved around them. She glared at Ward. "Phil was inconsolable before that operation," she said, her jaw clenched as she stared her lover down. "He didn't want to live. He started to remember that on the Bus. And it made him…" she drifted off.

Skye swallowed the lump in her throat. "He tried to hurt himself?"

"Dragged a knife up his forearm before Fitz walked in on him," May confirmed.

Ward stared down at his lap.

Skye put her hands to her mouth, not knowing what to say. She couldn't think, let alone understand the level of turmoil Coulson had been going through. It made her feel even worse about what had transpired last night. _Breaking into his room wasn't the right thing to do._ The thought that she might have escalated things for him only made her feel worse. But it had been Director Fury…he'd pulled them in. What she'd mistaken for worry hadn't been worry at all.

"Fury was suspicious about Coulson remembering?"

"I think he got that idea from Raina," May said, putting the car in gear and joining traffic again.

"Why do you think that?" Ward asked.

"Because he had no reason to be. And he only called us in after S.H.I.E.L.D.'s interrogation with her was over. I think she gave him a reason to be concerned."

"Why listen to her though? She's a criminal. Doesn't mean everything she says is going to be true."

"When we were back on the bus, Phil mentioned that he "wasn't aware of what was happening until it was too late"."

_Unconsciously committing suicide? _Skye thought. "He's reliving it," she realized.

"Some kind of form of PTSD brought on by Raina's machine," Ward assumed.

"What if it was intentional?" May said, her hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. "What if this was part of Project Centipede's plan to find out about Coulson's revival?"

Skye's face blanched at the revelation.

"They're trying to force S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hand," Ward voiced. "They're making a bet that if Coulson comes close to dying again that they'll have no other choice than to bring him back again."

"And if they don't?" Skye asked, her eyes watering. "What if they can't?"

"They'll still try," May said sadly. "That will give Project Centipede a location. It'll tell them all they need to know."

"If you had a feeling that this was happening, why didn't you tell Director Fury?"

"Because the alternative is just as horrifying as the idea of Coulson dying," May took a shuddering breath, trying hard to keep the mask of determination up. "Whether S.H.I.E.L.D. can get their hands on Coulson sooner or later doesn't matter. Phil will still remember everything. It'll change him. It'll make him who he was before that surgery."

Ward leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees as he put his head in his hands. "They'll put him through it again; just to bring him back to who he used to be."

"But what if he doesn't?" Skye piped up. "What if he doesn't backpedal and become that person again? Coulson is strong. He can fight it."

May looked at her. "That's what I'm hoping. But I know Phil. I know what he's going to try and do. He'll try and expose S.H.I.E.L.D. in one of their lies because he thinks it will make it all end. He's just putting himself at more risk for Rickard to kill him."

"What do you mean?"

"Coulson is supposed to be dead. There are people who aren't supposed to know that he's alive. If he can let them know, he'll think he can barter with S.H.I.E.L.D."

Ward looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. "S.H.I.E.L.D. won't negotiate. Coulson should know that."

"He's desperate," May said softly. "He's going to try."

Skye stared out at the night. Somewhere in the dark, Coulson was wandering, possibly injured. At least he wasn't alone. That slight relief kept her hopeful.

"Any idea who he's going to try and tell?" Ward asked May.

She took a deep breath and thought back to his text message on the Bus, their conversation when he'd woken up in the medical bay. "Yes." _And I hope she won't have to see him like that._

* * *

Chapter 13 coming tomorrow evening! Stay tuned...


	13. Chapter 13

That Certain-Something Spring by (the brilliant) Orenda Fink is today's inspiration. Another difficult chapter to write, but so satisfactory. Enjoy!

* * *

The highway traffic was thinning out as Tony settled further into his seat. After he'd stopped briefly to remove the Iron suit, they'd continued due west, eventually crossing over the New York Pennsylvania state line. Coulson had been adamant about them getting as far as they could driving at night and then holing up somewhere at day break. He'd also been wide awake, like some kind of electrically shocked, cat-nip crazed creature, swiveling his head from side to side every time they passed a car…which was almost every second.

Finally, as time drug on, Coulson had slipped into unconsciousness and Tony could finally breathe easy. He'd checked over the agent's wounds when they'd stopped, noting that the cut on his hand was shallow. The stitches were another problem. He'd have to take care of those himself and with the agent telling him he couldn't go anywhere public, Stark was starting to realize he'd have to improvise.

_Hell, I had to improvise in order to survive the Ten Rings._

The memory made him simultaneously grip the wheel harder and shake his head. _No. You are not going to get dragged back there. What happened there made you who you are. You wouldn't trade it for anything in the world…despite the unpleasant memories._

He glanced over at Coulson, the agent's face shifting in his sleep. He winced, his eyes squeezed shut.

_Unpleasant memories all around, I see._

Coulson mumbled. "No…"

Stark nudged the agent lightly with his hand. "Hey, Coulson, wake up."

A large truck released its airbrakes in front of them as they started down a steep hill, startling him. Coulson stirred but didn't awaken, his moaning only growing louder. "No, stop. Let me go!"

Stark stomped on the gas, and raced passed the truck. Nestled back in the darkness and silence of that night's road, he reached over and put a hand on Coulson's shoulder. "Phil, wake up."

Coulson started, whipping his head toward him. "What happened? What's the matter?"

"Nothing, except you're starting to freak the hell out of me. You were talking in your sleep."

The agent straightened in the seat, his eyes guarded. "How much did you hear?"

For a moment, Stark was tempted to ask Coulson what he'd dreamed. Instead, he shrugged and said, "Something about Captain America pajamas…"

Coulson rolled his eyes.

"They're a collector's item. I get it. I'm just saying there are other perfectly healthy ways of being a supportive fan. I've heard fan fiction can be really cathartic…"

"I wasn't talking about my pajamas, Stark," Coulson said, his tone dropping into depression.

"Hey, I was only kidding. I didn't think you actually owned a pair."

"I don't."

"Good. I was a little worried…"

"I was back in that room again," Coulson supplied, putting a hand to his head and massaging his temples. "Seems like I can never leave it behind. It just gets clearer and clearer every time I think about it."

Stark pursed his lips. "Then don't think about it."

"Easier said than done."

"Here, this ought to take your mind off of it for a while." Stark reached inside his coat and produced a small pack.

The moment Coulson saw the label, his eyes practically bugged. "Captain America trading cards. Mint. Still in the plastic." He leaned forward, trying to breathe. "These must have cost you a fortune."

"Took a while to track them down. No easy task by the way. Tracking the location of a rogue terrorist group to a middle of no-where location in the deserts of Afghanistan was easier than trying to find one of those packs."

Coulson turned the pack over in his fingers, unable to take his eyes off it. "What happened to my other cards?"

"So these aren't good enough, is that it?"

"These are _amazing_, in every sense of the word. But the others were…they had personal value, emotional value…"

Tony swallowed. "They were covered in your blood."

Coulson scoffed. "Took 'em out of my locker. That son of a bitch," he said under his breath.

"What?"

"Oh…nothing." He leaned back in the seat. "My father bought me the first couple when I was just a kid. It was just before he died. They're really the only thing I had left of him."

Stark thought briefly about his own father. A multi-million dollar company had been left to him, a name, a legacy. But nothing personal. He wasn't sure why but he was envious of the agent. The thought suddenly evaporated when he remembered what had happened to the cards. "They buried the other cards with you…well…in your, I guess, _empty_ coffin. The Cap even signed them. Figured the most valuable ones should be with the most dedicated fan."

Coulson's mouth formed a straight line and Tony looked away, allowing him a moment to reign in his feelings.

"So, what exactly is the plan, Phil? Besides butchering my sleep schedule once again?"

"I forgot about the insomnia." Coulson glanced at him. "Sorry."

"I'll also mention that I haven't been on a road trip since one of my college girlfriends wanted to see Black Sabbath in concert. Seriously one of the longest road trips ever; it was only to Philadelphia but it felt like forever. We couldn't actually listen to any Black Sabbath, or The Who, or Led Zeppelin on the way there, we had to 'save ourselves up' for them. So, instead, it was Gordon Lightfoot for two straight days."

"Sounds like hell," Coulson sympathized.

"There's only so many times one can listen to "Sundown" without a small part of them dying inside."

"Any idea where she is now?"

Stark wracked his memory. He couldn't even pull up her name. _Jamie? Janie? Jan? Jen?_ He shrugged. "No clue."

Coulson seemed unsatisfied with his answer and stared out his window.

"How's the arm holding up?"

"Hurts like a bitch," Coulson remarked off the cuff.

Stark's eyebrows went up. "Figured as much." If Coulson was swearing openly, it had to be painful. He'd wrapped it with a strip from Coulson's suit shirt and he'd seen the agent's eyes haze over in agony as he'd applied the pressure. "I'm going to need a suture and a needle in order to fix that up."

"Never took you for much of a nursemaid," Coulson said.

"I'm not. I just really like to sew," Tony remarked.

They sat in silence for a couple more minutes. Stark could tell Coulson was thinking about the room again. He didn't blame him. All he'd done after New York was obsess on it, the idea that death had come so close to snatching him away and that he'd been so ready for it. It had made him feel hollow, much like he was sure Coulson was feeling right now.

"So, Portland," he brought up, hoping the distraction would yank Coulson thoroughly from the memories at least for a little bit.

The agent looked at him and sighed. "Yeah."

"The cellist?"

Coulson's face pinched a little. "Audrey."

"She thinks you're dead, too, doesn't she?"

"They had to tell her I was to keep her safe."

Stark frowned. "Safe from what?"

"From anyone that might try to get to me through someone I—" He stopped himself. "The assignment of my team and the Bus had stipulations. I couldn't ever see her again, nor she see me."

"But she could at least know that you were alive."

"Too risky. And I wouldn't be able to give her a reason for why I couldn't see her, not one she'd believe anyway."

Stark read Coulson's face, the desperation tugging at the corners of his mouth and the loneliness in his far-off gaze. "Things were serious then?"

"She left me. Had to. She had a job in Portland. S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled me in the opposite direction. Finding time to spend with her was becoming harder and harder. I couldn't promise to always be there for her." He shook his head.

"But she must have understood the importance of your job?"

"I told her I was FBI. Not S.H.I.E.L.D. though. I couldn't tell her that. I had to lie."

"I suppose it would have been a little strange coming into dinner late and saying "Sorry, honey. I had to deal with Norse Gods of legend today. Tomorrow, I'll be digging a body out of some ice that we found at the bottom of the ocean."

"Mostly, I'd just say it was a late night at the office."

"Probably the better thing to go with."

"Cello, though." Tony nodded. "That's a tough instrument."

"She never made it seem that way," Coulson said, smiling a little. It was the first time Stark had seen him genuinely happy about something the entire night. "First time I heard her play, I think I forgot to breathe."

"That good, huh?"

"Well, that and she was really pretty." Stark thought for a moment he saw the agent's cheeks color a little.

"How'd you work up the nerve to ask her out?"

"I didn't. Eventually, she started noticing how I'd always show up to her concerts, and would always flash me a smile before she got off the stage. I even went back stage once, thinking I was finally ready to do it. Instead, I wrote a note to her telling her how much I enjoyed her performance and went to slip it under the door. She opened it before I could. Slammed me in the head, knocked me out cold."

Tony chuckled. "Graceful."

"She went in the ambulance with me to the emergency room. When I woke up she just said, "We'll go somewhere more fun on our next date." And that was that."

"So you basically stalked her and made yourself look like an idiot in order to secure a date with her?"

Coulson shrugged. "It worked, didn't it?"

"I've got to hand it to you, Phil, it's certainly one of the strangest methods I've ever heard of."

His smile faded after a few moments and he stared down at his hands solemnly. "She didn't deserve it."

"Deserve what?"

"Being alone so much. I should have been there for her more than I was."

"You tried your hardest."

Coulson shook his head. "No, I didn't. I was scared to leave the job behind. It had always been there like some kind of crutch. It sustained me. I wasn't ready to loosen my grip on it, even just a little bit."

Stark sighed.

"So she left. Said we needed some time to cool off. I agreed. But we still called one another at the end of each week. I never got to talk to her that week."

Tony didn't need to ask; he knew which week Coulson was referring to.

"The next phone call she got was them telling her I'd been killed in the line of duty, instead of me telling her I got to save the day with my favorite heroes." He leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes.

"But we're going to set things straight; we're going to tell her the truth."

"Yeah," Coulson muttered. "Because I'm selfish."

"What?"

"Telling Audrey will break S.H.I.E.L.D.'s protocol. I'll be telling a civilian, someone I used to know that I'm still alive. It's my only chance to stop S.H.I.E.L.D. from taking me back. They can make me forget…but they can't make her."

Stark nodded. "Seems like a solid plan. Why do I get the feeling you're not 100 percent committed to it?"

"Because I'm going to break her heart," Coulson cleared his throat. When he opened his eyes, Stark recognized the shimmer of tears in the corners. "Again."

"Phil, I just found out you were alive and the most I did was save your life and then…punch you. Knowing you were alive made any anger I felt toward you minimal at best."

"She's probably moved on, Stark. It's only healthy for her to have wanted to rebuild her life after us; after me. And if she has, I'll be taking a wrecking ball to it."

"She'll know you're alive," Tony emphasized, making eye contact with him for a split second. "That'll make it all worthwhile. She'll be relieved. You'll see."

Coulson exhaled. "I hope." It was the thing either one of them said over the next few hours of driving.

* * *

Realized that I wouldn't be able to post this chapter Friday evening because I have a commitment to go see Captain America 2! So here it is early. Enjoy guys! Chapter 14 will probably follow Saturday evening.


	14. Chapter 14

So...just so you are all aware, this chapter is a short, absolute clusterfuck (pardon my language). There are spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier. If you haven't seen it and want to, I recommend doing it before reading this chapter. Remember that this all takes place pre-Captain America: TWS. This chapter is also based on a lot of fan speculation about what will happen in the upcoming Agents of Shield episode "Turn, Turn, Turn." Since I've basically made lots of leaps and guesses about what's going to happen, the story will be non-canon to the rest of the series. "It Was Blue" by Angus Stone is the inspiration for this one. Enjoy, guys.

* * *

Chapter 14

"Get me a secure line," Rickard ordered over the phone as he stepped into the elevator of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Triskelion headquarters. Alone. Finally. He'd been swarmed by agents, generals, officials for the last several hours. The noise, the commotion, the general disarray involved in hunting Agent Coulson had only set the hunger rumbling. It had caught him off guard.

In the beginning he'd battled it; the silent predator. It was the one that slipped in unnoticed in the chaos and set its yellow eyes on him. It craved violence, it begged for blood. He'd seen it in the war. It was unrelenting, a bottomless pit. Never satisfied, the empty stomach always growling.

Battling against it seemed the right thing to do; the honorable thing. But after a while, it got boring, not just exhausting but _boring_. Why run from the thing that his superiors had tried to mold him into? It was their goal. They wanted soldiers, they wanted him to crave carnage and hate it at the same time. So, he'd given in.

Oh, the sweet relief he'd felt, like a seasoned bottle of chardonnay that warmed his stomach; its alcohol pulsing through each beat of his heart. It lived there now. It thrived. And it hadn't taken him long to discover that that was where it belonged.

He gave the SHIELD operator the name he wanted to call and waited impatiently as the line rang. And rang.

"This is Pierce," a man said, his voice rough around the edges.

"We have a situation," Rickard said, keeping his tone low. "I'm on my way up to your office."

Pierce scoffed. "You do realize that I'm not there."

"Of course. You're still in Greenwich."

"Someone's got to be S.H.I.E.L.D.'s representative during this endless clean-up," Pierce grumbled. "Shouldn't be me. But all of Fury's lackeys are on assignment elsewhere."

The elevator dinged and Rickard stepped off onto a soft carpet. "Stark is now involved."

There was silence on the other end. Pierce cleared his throat. "I thought we had that under control."

"Agent Coulson's team contacted Stark before I even set foot on the Bus. I have reason to believe he's with Coulson. The agent's mysterious disappearance from the car crash site is enough evidence for me."

"Do you have eyes on them yet?"

"Will soon enough," Rickard said, stopping in front of the retinal scanner. The laser screened his eye and the doors to Pierce's office clicked and slid open. He breezed in, heading straight for the Councilman's desk. "Stark's got one of the most recognizable faces in the world. And he's not the type to stay cloistered undercover for too long. He'll have to come out sooner or later."

"There's a lot of uncertainty in that phrase, Manuel," Pierce said, his tone darkening. "We can't afford to let either of them slip through our fingers, not when we're so close to launching Project Insight."

Rickard slumped into Pierce's chair. "I know that."

"We cannot risk Coulson remembering too much about his stay in the hospital. We can't risk Fury finding out what he saw. He can't get his hands on him before us."

"Believe it or not, Alexander, I am presently aware of the threats involved," Rickard sarcastically said.

"Then, let me put it to you in a different light. It was _your_ idea to put in that countermeasure on Raina's table. It was your idea to let him get away so that the memories would start returning. And I allowed this only because you said you could keep him under your thumb, which you clearly haven't done." Pierce sighed. "The point of allowing him to remember was to get him to kill himself, to get S.H.I.E.L.D. to save his life again."

Rickard took a deep breath, trying to keep the anger from rising in his throat. "My "countermeasure" should have put Coulson in a body bag by now. The only reason it didn't is because your man screwed it up and saved his damn life. This situation is just as much your fault, Alexander."

"If he hadn't, his cover would have been blown," Pierce growled. "Agent Fitz is our eyes and ears with Coulson and Fury. If we'd lost that edge, we'd have had to go back to square one."

Rickard stared out at the night time city, his eyes locking on the spark of orange on the horizon. Morning would come soon. And with it, the chances for catching Coulson and Stark grew more and more promising.

"In any case," Rickard growled, "a part of Coulson's team is still searching for answers behind his death. Even if we're forced to take out Coulson and Stark without S.H.I.E.L.D. bringing him back, we'll get the information that we need for the Clairvoyant from them. I call that a win-win situation."

"You do _not_ touch, Stark," Pierce commanded. "If the press gets wind of S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives having anything to do with his death, Project Insight will be nothing more than a waste of our time and tax dollars. And you and I will be looking out at the world from a very small, very grey room the rest of our lives." Pierce paused before he said. "You know what that feels like."

Rickard glowered, a flipbook of images flying through his head. Being a P.O.W. had been the climax of horror for him. What he'd seen and heard there had branded things into his brain that would never go away. It had spurned the rage, _that _thing into action. The fight for survival had swallowed him whole. It had made him very, very angry.

"I've got to go. Update me when you get a location on them," Pierce ordered. "Hail Hydra."

Rickard focused on the blooming sunlight, becoming brighter as the sky turned an ominous and hot red. "Hail Hydra."

* * *

Figured we needed to get inside the heads of our antagonists, if only to know what's propelling their search for Coulson. Stay tuned for Chapter 15, coming later today, where you guys will finally get a little May/Coulson!


	15. Chapter 15

Sorry it's a little late coming guys. Two songs for inspiration here: "I Don't Know What I Can Save You From" by Kings of Convenience for the first part and the gorgeous "Elephants" (instrumental) by Rachel Yamagata for the second. Enjoy guys.

* * *

Sunrise. Tony wasn't even sure when it had started but it was suddenly blinding him. His eyes watered and he rubbed his knuckles over them. A solid eight hours of driving. It was hard to believe he'd been sitting there that long. He shifted and his back cricked painfully. _Shit,_ he thought, gritting his teeth.

It was just like that time he'd stayed up all night watching a marathon of old episodes of "Gilligan's Island". Pepper had discovered him at 4 a.m. the next morning, staring at the screen with eyes half open, dazed and barely cognizant of the fact that he'd tipped his bowl of cereal slightly, spilling some milk into his lap.

The t.v. had suddenly gone dark and he'd whipped around to find her with the remote in her hand and one of her stern expressions, her lips pressed together in motherly-like concern.

"Whaaaat?" he barely remembered exclaiming as he'd flailed, nearly spilling the remainder of milk on the chair. "They were getting _off_ the island in this one! I just know it!"

"Go to bed," she'd ordered, taking the remote with her as she started into the other room.

An effort to turn the television back on only made her flip it off nearly half a second later. Knowing he wasn't going to win…and realizing that he was wearing more cocoa puffs than he'd actually eaten, he padded to the bedroom and spread out across the bed.

A moan made Stark flash back to the present as he glanced at his fellow passenger.

Coulson looked rough. His scrapes and bruises only looked worse in the growing morning light and his pallor was whiter than Stark knew it should be. He reached over and touched the agent's arm carefully, drawing back when he noticed how clammy it was.

_Not good. _

"Hey, wake up," he announced, giving Coulson a cautionary nudge.

Coulson stirred slowly, his glassy eyes opening only enough to take in the growing light before they squeezed shut again. "Ugh."

"That's right. It's morning. Means we're going to have to find somewhere to pull in for the day. And judging by the way you look, it will be none too soon."

"Oh, my head," Coulson mumbled, putting his palm over his eyes.

"It looks like we've got several choices to pick from here," Tony said, gazing off the highway toward the line of small and strange motels coming up. "Looks like…the Home on the Range Motel is first."

Plastic cows and a poor replica of a covered wagon welcomed tourists out front of a sad line of one story brown cabins with red shutters.

"Nah?" he asked.

Coulson shook his head, still not looking.

"Yeah, I wasn't feeling it either." Tony drove on, craning his head to read the next sign. "What's next? The Suite Heart Junction?"

Coulson chuckled. "Doesn't that sound just darling?"

"I agree. It's awful. We'll keep going… Baits' Motel?"

Coulson rolled his head to the side to stare at him blankly.

"On the off-chance that it's run by a psychotic fisherman with a severe Oedipus complex, we'll skip it."

They drove for several more miles until Stark noticed an inn without any punny names and pulled the car into the lot. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he pulled his wallet from his pocket and started to get out before Coulson grabbed him. "Undercover, Stark. Don't put it on a card."

"I always keep a little spending money on me just in case this kind of thing happens," Stark assured stepping out.

"In case you have every agency in the country hunting you by using any means possible?"

"I'm just saying: preparedness. It's something I take seriously."

Coulson just sighed and rested his head back on the seat.

Pulling the hood up over his head, Stark tossed on a pair of sunglasses and walked through the front door of the motel manager's office. A little old man behind the desk perked up and put on a pair of coke bottle glasses. The office was in severe disarray, a general shade of taupe hanging over everything, looking as if it had been pulled straight from a sepia photograph. Old, tattered road maps lined a shelf in the corner, a dirtied painting of a hotrod with a scantily clad girl leaning on the hood covered the majority of one wall and a rusted out air conditioning unit whirred loudly on Stark's right.

The old man took one look at Stark and sneered. "What are you supposed to be? Some kind of drug dealer?"

"I happen to be sensitive to the idea of skin cancer," Stark bit back. "But I'm sure your habit of jumping to conclusions is the cornerstone of your plan to build a thriving business,"

"Oh, you're a smart alec, then?" the man groaned. "Well, feel free to get out. I'm all booked up."

Stark glanced back outside to the car they'd parked in and the otherwise empty parking lot around it. "I'm curious, are the rooms filled with books then? Because they're obviously not filled with people."

"Stay right there, hot shot. I'm going to call the police." The old man started to walk away.

_Damn it_, Stark swallowed down his pride. "Wait, wait a minute."

"It's too late to apologize now." The old man picked up the receiver.

"I'm an actor," he blurted.

The old man paused before pressing the buttons and just stared.

"More of a stunt double, really." Tony rephrased. "I wear the get up because people tend to think I'm…well, whoever I'm doubling and then there's a lot of commotion, unnecessary excitement…"

The old man put the receiver down and returned to the counter. "Son, the last time there was a lot of commotion here was when Elvis spent a night here because his car broke down. And even then, it was just the guys from the auto repair shop down the road and that one gal from the diner across the way."

"Well, just the same…"

The old man reached under the desk and grabbed a key, setting it next to the log book. "Sure thing."

As Tony started signing a fake name, the old man scrutinized him. "Just out of curiosity, who do you double for in the movies?"

Stark looked around carefully. "Stallone."

"Ah…" The old man nodded and glanced out the window at the car he'd arrived in. "Would have expected a fancier car than that."

"It's not mine, it's…my agent's."

"That guy?"

Stark followed his gaze. Coulson was standing outside the car, staring off into the distance.

_What is he doing?!_

"I appreciate it!" Stark said, forking over the money and pushing outside.

He approached the car, coming around the passenger side toward Coulson. "Hey, you said yourself that S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to be on the lookout for both of us. We should get inside the room and—"

"It's hot in here," Coulson said suddenly.

Tony's eyebrows perked. "You mean "out here"? Yeah. It's going to be a scorcher. Even more reason to get inside the room, put on the A.C…."

"I mean, I thought they'd have the air-conditioning working, but…whoo…I can barely get a breath," the agent continued, still staring off in another direction.

"Phil?" Stark maneuvered around him, looking at him.

Coulson's eyes were unfocused, peering off into a place that was non-existent to the here and now. Stark barely had time to react when the agent's knees suddenly buckled and he dropped toward the ground.

"Shit!" Stark grabbed his shoulders, just barely preventing his head from slamming down. "Phil? Phil?" He snapped his fingers over Coulson's face. No reaction. Rolling up the agent's left sleeve, he ground his teeth at the sight of the gouge; red, irritated and horribly bruised around the sliced flesh. He needed antibiotics and a fresh suture. But where in the hell was he going to—

"Stand aside, son."

Tony turned around, noticing the old man as he came running from the manager's office, a medical kit in his hand. "Let's get your friend inside. I'll see what I can do for him there."

Relief splashed over Tony's system as he and the elderly man hoisted Coulson into the office.

* * *

_"—thought they'd have the air-conditioning working, but…whoo…I can barely get a breath," May remembered Coulson saying as they got inside the hotel room in Greece._

_Mission number 32. It was just a number. The goal was routine espionage, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing special. But it was the first time they'd actually had a chance to be somewhere remotely luxurious. The last mission they'd spent curled up in a dirty, half crumbling apartment in a city with daily bombings, and several militant groups fighting for supremacy with very little food to survive on. This had been a godsend for her._

_"So dramatic," May had said with a small smirk, tossing her bag onto the bed and crossing to glance out the window. It looked out on the small square blocks and azure domes of the city, descending down the hillside toward the choppy blue-black sea. It was within a direct line of sight from the home of their target. They could see his comings and goings, observe any activity that happened through his bedroom window, and be able to get down to tail him within a matter of moments if necessary._

_"Not dramatic, just…hot," Coulson chuckled._

_"Well, maybe if we wrap this up, you can get a little time in to try surfing again."_

_"The Mediterranean is pretty flat," he responded, unzipping his bag and pulling out his tech and clothes. "Not a lot of wind. The swells are only a foot high at best."_

_"Lies." May picked up a transmitter from her bag and tested it. "The surfing is actually pretty good here. You just need the right conditions."_

_"Are we betting?" She recognized a small shine in his eyes when she turned to him._

_"Depends on how much you want to lose."_

_He nodded. "You're on."_

_They turned back to their respective preparations. Nearly an hour later, the sky darkened and the soft heat of the day burned off into a crisp chill. May was in the bathroom, slipping into her form-fitted black dress. She reached into the box on the dresser and picked up a pair of crystal earrings and hooked them on one at a time._

_"Tracking signal Swarovskis," Coulson commented as he stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting his tie. "The Agency gets closer to Ian Fleming's MI6 every day."_

_"Admit it, you love it," May said, grabbing a necklace and reaching behind her neck to put it on. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to find the hook._

_Coulson took over, staring at her in the mirror as he clasped the necklace together. "Is it that obvious?"_

_He finished and she turned to face him._

_There was a moment where neither one of them said a thing. They just stared and May felt the ocean that usually was there between them shrink to a puddle. He was so close. She reached out and pulled a crease in his suit. "Dapper," she said, breaking the silence._

_"Well, here, these are about to ruin it," he said, producing a set of thick black framed glasses. He put them on._

_"Let me guess? There's a camera built in. It'll take snapshots of our guy whenever you touch the button hidden on the arm."_

_Coulson shook his head, face scrunching up a little. "I bought 'em in the airport. Just thought they looked cool."_

_May turned away from him scoffing. "Come on, we're going to be late for the party."_

_The "party" in question was being held by an affluent friend of their target at his large mansion on the far-side of the coastline, accentuated by jagged cliffs and a slowly paling purple sky. The agency had merited invitations for them under the disguises of Mr. and Mrs. Gerard and Pricilla Haysley._

_"I don't really look like a Gerard, do I?" Coulson had said when they were dancing together later that evening to the soft tune of a piano._

_"No," she admitted, her eyes locked on their target across the room. "You'd make a good Sam, though."_

_"I like that name. It's hip."_

_"Hip?"_

_"That made me sound old, didn't it?"_

_"More than you want to know."_

_He moved his hand, his warm fingers caressing her back. She took a self-conscious breath and tried to keep focused on the mission. Where had the target been? She shifted her gaze to her three o'clock and found him standing by the refreshments, sipping a glass of champagne._

_"What about you?" Phil said suddenly. "What do you think of 'Pricilla?'"_

_"It makes me sound like I collect fine china and wear a bonnet in my spare time," she remarked._

_Coulson smiled. "I like your name, though."_

_"Oh, come on. It's so old-fashioned."_

_"I'm not talking about Pricilla." He glanced suddenly to her three o'clock and swirled May around so that she was looking at Coulson instead. "He was looking right at us," the agent commented. "We may have been made."_

_May curled her fingers around the back of Coulson's neck and lifted herself to her tip toes. Their lips connected. Soft. Careful. Thoughts that had been flying through her head at the speed of light screeched to a halt and seemed to scatter and burst like stationary sparklers. Coulson tightened his hold around her, fingers pressing into the small of her back. Something in her chest fluttered, like a million sets of wings threatening to lift off all at once._

_And just as soon as it had been initiated it was over. She pulled away from him, her eyes quickly darting to their target. He was talking with someone else now. He hadn't been alerted. He hadn't made them._

_"We're alright," she said quietly, glancing back at Coulson._

_He looked as if he was still waking up from the enchantment, a bemused expression sliding over his face. "I knew this suit was good for something," he said after a moment._

_"Easy, _Gerard_," May said with a small pop of humor, "we've still got a long night ahead of us." The piano seemed to fade into her memory like the serenade from a fairytale, something she had never believed in, never dreamed of, and never wished for but had never found anything else to compare that night to other than that._

Three seconds later, she was in that car once more. The quiet, the first hints of daylight with her two very asleep passengers, Ward and Skye, her only companions. In the background, Greece sank below the surface like a stone sinking into the deep blue ocean. The only time they'd ever connected, the only time she'd felt vulnerable and enjoyed it. It was such a fleeting experience, it was a wonder it had happened at all. But more than anything else, she'd cared deeply about her partner, about how he survived in the world even if they couldn't be together in it.

When he'd heard about her, the cellist, she'd been overjoyed for him. He'd found a love that had been pure and real and not fraught with danger or being who he truly wasn't. But it was in the wake of his death. He'd only had a short time with her and it had been taken from both of them too soon.

May felt something starting to sting in her eyes and quickly swallowed and gave a quick shake of her head. It had ended for her and Phil much earlier than that, too.

But now was different. He _needed _her. And now that she was involved, she wasn't going to allow what had happened to him in the Helicarrier happen again. S.H.I.E.L.D. and Rickard were going to be sorry that they had ever picked a fight with Coulson when she was there to defend him. She gripped the steering wheel as if it was the only thing anchoring her to the world and silently drove on, haunted by the occasional piano note slipping through the cracks of her memory.

* * *

Got to admit...that made me feel kind of warm and tingly inside. Stay tuned for Chapter 16 tomorrow...


	16. Chapter 16

Another short one. Sorry I didn't have this one up for you earlier, guys. I've been battling a terrible migraine the last few days. That and I've been working. Getting behind on other stuff that has priority. I'm going to get another one up for you late tonight. In the Water by Anadel is the inspiration here. Sorry it's so short. Enjoy.

* * *

"Today marks the second day I've spent entirely indoors, Phil," Tony announced as he stared out the motel window. The sun's glare was almost too much to handle and the view of the highway with the cars cruising by in non-stop formation only made him more restless.

"With the windows shut, mind you," he added, turning around and leaning in the chair nearby, allowing the feeling of the sun to spread across his back. It felt good. Spending so much time in the room had made him cold. Several times he'd found himself at the door, his hand clenched around the knob. It couldn't hurt if he took a little jaunt, anything to just get out of that room for a little while…

But Coulson's words haunted him. He couldn't let S.H.I.E.L.D. get ahold of him, not after what they'd already done to him. And as much as Tony figured the iron suit would protect his friend, his doubts lingered below the surface. Fury had used him before to fight in New York. He wouldn't put it past the director to pull a similar trick here.

"What's the matter?" Coulson piped up, his voice shaky. "Is the view not interesting enough for you?"

"Unless you think staring at traffic like it's a screensaver is somehow cathartic…" Tony answered, glancing at Coulson.

The agent had been lying in the hotel bed for the last 48 hours, too weak to move. His arm was freshly bandaged, though his clothes were sweat-stained and wrinkled. His skin tone was still pasty and clammy to the touch while a two days rough sketch of a beard had started on his face.

"Christ, you look terrible," Stark announced. "Is this the image the agency is promoting now a days? That 'recently laid-off from the office' mentality isn't so dashing with the ladies, you know."

Coulson shivered despite the blankets over him. "I thought it might be endearing."

"Don't get your hopes up. You look more like a smallpox victim than anything else."

Coulson coughed. "Thanks. That's really making me feel a whole lot better."

The door behind them suddenly opened and Stark whirled out of the chair, his fist closing in preparation of a fight.

The manager of the hotel staggered back at the sight of Stark's fist. "Easy, Stallone. I'm not here to rob you."

Stark let his hands fall to his sides and sighed. "You're supposed to knock. Didn't anyone ever teach you that?"

"Am I?" the old man grumbled, closing the door behind him. "Excuse me. I didn't realize I was late to dinner at my mother-in-laws."

Stark rolled his eyes. "Did you get the stuff?"

The old man, a retired army medic whom they learned was named Darwin, handed a plastic bag over to Stark. "Got you a standard mobile phone, a headset, couple bottles of Advil, some new clothes for you and your friend…"

Stark pulled out a pale pink button down shirt. "What is this?"

Darwin shrugged. "It was the only color they had in that size."

Stark tossed it over onto the bed. "That one's his."

"…And last but not least…" Darwin produced a paper box with a cartoon chicken on the side. "Best fried chicken around."

Tony's eyes bugged. "This might be the first time I've cried over eating fried food." He immediately pulled open the box, produced a crispy chicken leg and bit into it. "Mmm… Phil! You sure you don't want some of this? Taste that grease! It'll cure you right up."

Coulson closed his eyes and shook his head.

"How is he feeling?" Darwin asked under his breath to Stark.

"Well, he still looks terrible. I thought new stitches and a new bandage would do the trick but he's not getting any better. He needs those antibiotics if he's going to recover."

Darwin moved around Tony and approached Coulson, leaning over him. "Son, I'm just going to check your wound. Don't move." He took Coulson's arm gently. "No bleeding through the bandage. That's good at least. Let me know if you can feel—"

"AH!" Coulson screamed, his back arching in the bed.

Tony dropped the chicken leg back in the box. "What? What'd you do?"

"I barely touched it," Darwin assured, unwrapping the bandage.

Coulson writhed, his fists balling. "Please, stop," he begged.

Stark came around to the other side of the bed. "Easy, he's just trying to find out what's going on."

Once Darwin had gotten down to the wound, Stark's eyes darkened. Tiny red wavy lines extended from the already horribly bruised and deep red cut.

"It's infected his lymph system," Darwin said, carefully sliding Coulson's arm out and feeling underneath. "It's swollen. He needs to go to a hospital and he needs to go now."

"I can't take him there. I already told you that," Stark argued. He'd made up a story, one that seemed realistic but knew he couldn't divulge the whole truth. He couldn't place anyone else in danger of knowing what S.H.I.E.L.D. had done.

"Because there's a chance they might lock him up? If he tried to kill himself, it might be the best option," Darwin said with a shake of his head.

"You told me you used to see this happen all the time. Guys out of the service with PTSD who would do this kind of thing. I don't want my friend getting mixed up in a place like that. He got confused, that's all."

"You're right. I did see it all the time. I saw guys that I'd never thought would break…crumble. And it hurt to have to see them need that kind of treatment. But it was for their own good," Darwin responded, rewrapping the wound.

Tears ran down Coulson's face from the pain.

"Your friend here may die. This could kill him. You think you're saving him, you think you're doing a good thing by keeping yourselves locked in here away from where people might recognize you… How much of that is personal ego? How much are you willing to sacrifice to make sure that he doesn't die?"

Stark stared at Coulson. If he walked out that door, if he found the antibiotics, he would be recognized. He would bring S.H.I.E.L.D. straight to their location and it would be all over in a matter of moments. Coulson wouldn't even have a chance to make it to Portland to see Audrey. But the alternative was like a knife twisting in his chest. The thought of sitting crunched up in a dingy hotel watching his friend slowly suffer and potentially die was impossible. He couldn't do that.

He wouldn't do that.

"I need you to stay here," Stark ordered Darwin, scraping the car keys off the table. "I'll be back by dark." He started out the door, the fresh air like a welcome breath on his body.

"Son," Darwin said, catching Stark before he walked any further.

"Yeah?"

"You're doing the right thing."

"Yeah…Right and wrong can get a little blurry sometimes though," he said, before continuing to the car. He'd get to a secluded spot, get the Iron Suit on and find a hospital. _Who says it has to be the closest one_, he thought, climbing into the car and turning the engine over. _If I can't bring you to the hospital, Phil, I'll bring it to you._

The tires spun as he backed out and sped toward the highway.

* * *

Late tonight. It'll happen. Stay tuned.


	17. Chapter 17

Tragedy (Austin Cello Version) by Brandi Carlile. This was a sad one. Enjoy, guys.

* * *

Portland was rainy, not unlike the last time May had been there. It was a visit she wished she could forget. Just being back within the city limits made her feel claustrophobic and sick to her stomach.

Skye had been on a phone that May had picked up for them the day before, trying to access the public records to look up Audrey's address in the city. So far, they were coming up empty though.

"I don't understand," Skye finally said, tossing the phone down on the seat and sighing. "It shouldn't be this difficult."

"Unless her name has changed," Ward optioned. "Then…who knows how many Audrey's we'll have to go through until we get the right one."

"Check the Oregon Orchestra's records," May said, her tone even. "It's our last option."

Skye picked up the phone and started pressing buttons again.

"Hey," Ward said just above a whisper. "How are you holding up?"

The question caught her off guard. She should have been used to it. Ward was always checking on her to see how she was, even when he should have known she could carry herself just fine. But this time, it got to her. The first thing she saw was the look on Phil's face when she'd pulled out of their kiss all those years ago. She tensed, her hands clutching the wheel tighter. "I just want to find Coulson. Get this whole mess sorted out with S.H.I.E.L.D."

"You realize we might not get things sorted out, not if they're up to what you say they are."

He was right. The likelihood was that once they got Coulson, they'd be on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D. and Rickard's men until they could find a place to disappear underground. She had to anticipate that in addition to what was likely to happen if Audrey suddenly became collateral damage. Once she found out about Coulson, she'd have to come with them, whether she wanted to or not. Maybe it was better if she didn't know. Maybe it was better if—

"May?" Skye said suddenly from the back, as she scrambled to sit up in her seat. "I think I've got her. Audrey Sorg, a cellist with the OO. Looks like she's got a show tonight. Starts in a couple hours."

May nodded. "Good. Get us tickets."

Skye pressed more buttons. "Now what about…"

"What?"

"Well, I know you like the leather jacket as much as anyone, but it's not exactly symphony orchestra viewing attire," Skye hinted.

"She has a point," Ward accepted. "We look like we just walked off the set for a GI Joe photo shoot. We'd do well to show up tonight and be as inconspicuous as possible."

"Do you want to play dress up or do you want to help Coulson?" May said hardly, staring at him.

Ward put up his hands. "Easy! We want to help Coulson just as much as you do. But we can't do that if S.H.I.E.L.D. recognizes us. What if they knew about the cellist and have already sent people ahead? We need to approach this cautiously."

May deflated a little. He was right. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw Skye eying her sadly.

"Fine," she allowed.

The hacker was back on her phone within moments searching for the nearest clothing store. May tried to ignore Ward's worried expression and settled her eyes on the road ahead, her shoulders as stiff as boards.

Within the hour, they'd found a small tasteful formal attire store and had separated to their respective departments. While Ward quickly selected a black tux, and Skye tried to choose between a deep purple or magenta dress, May locked herself in her own dressing room with a simple black dress and reminisced on the last time she'd found herself in Portland.

_She hadn't worn a dress then, though Fury had suggested it. It wasn't her style. And wearing it only made the horror of what had happened to Coulson stick to her more. She felt more vulnerable with less on. At least with a jacket she could cover up. The world could see less of her, they could be fooled that she was less sad than she actually was._

_Fury had given her the home address for Audrey knowing that May could probably catch her at home in the evening. May had gone during the day, and had shown up at the concert hall where Audrey was practicing for a performance later that week. She figured it would be better if she was surrounded by friends and not alone. Most people would have lost it if they'd been alone. _

_She'd stood in the back of the auditorium listening to her practice uninterrupted, watched the small smile curl on her face as she closed her eyes and lost herself in the melody. She knew she was thinking about him. Even if they had been taking a break, she could see that little bit of Coulson with Audrey. The only part of him that was left. _

_Telling her was like ripping open a freshly scabbed over cut. It however much she wanted to pretend that what had happened had just been a dream, now, it couldn't be. This was where the pain was fresh and raw._

"_Phil Coulson was killed in action in flight over the Atlantic Ocean Friday afternoon." The words had barely left her mouth before she watched the horror claim Audrey's eyes. It didn't all sink in at once like May had hoped though. She'd tried to make it as quick and painless as possible, ripping the bandage off. It hadn't happened though._

_For a very long time, the cellist could barely get a sentence out. Just the start of one. And it always started with "You." An accusation. Whether it be that she must have been lying or that it was her fault…May knew that no matter what eventually came out of the cellist's mouth, it would be something pinpointed at her and the agency Coulson had so loved._

_Instead, with a whimper, Audrey had set down the cello and the bow on the floor of the concert hall. She set them down so gently and carefully that May had thought that perhaps Audrey hadn't heard her right. But once the instrument was down, the cellist sat herself down on her knees, and slowly collapsed inward, her sobs gradually echoing through the hall._

_May hadn't been brave enough to stay. Inside, her small little paper boat was beginning to soak through and drown. She'd quickly found another member of the orchestra and directed them Audrey's way before she left details about the funeral and quietly slipped out. There was no need to make it any more painful and no need to risk sinking her boat again._

Knocking on her dressing room door startled her from her thoughts.

"May, did you find something? We're going to be late," Skye said.

May stared down at the black dress in the mirror and combed her hair back from her face and said. "Yeah, I'm ready," even though she wasn't.

The same concert hall. It was almost fortuitous that Phil should bring her back here. She wondered briefly about being here, seeing him. He had left before they had and there was every possibility that he would be there that night, watching her play. But after arriving and taking their seats, she'd scanned the entire crowd, scrutinizing every face and every body. Coulson wasn't there. Or if he was, he wasn't showing himself. _Which is the smart thing to do_, she thought.

The lights plunged and the curtain slid open noiselessly to reveal an empty seat on the stage. From the left, May watched Audrey appear. Her wavy brown hair bounced at her shoulders. She looked happy. Her cheeks had good color, her eyes were bright and alive. And her bright blue dress seemed to make the melancholy memories of May's last visit recede a little. But there was a pause before Audrey opened her case and produced her beloved cello. It was enough for May to see that there were still traces of Phil that haunted her.

It was a gorgeous concert. It was almost the same Audrey in love that May remembered hearing before she'd had to deliver that horrible news. And the history of that moment had rippled into the present. It was heard in every stroke that the cellist made, every tinge of her face as the song flowed out and on to the waiting ears of the audience. At one point, Ward even tried to touch her hand. She'd slipped hers away and tried her hardest not to bolt from her seat.

The audience clapped. Audrey stood. The lights went up. And as she waved and glanced over the audience, her eyes eventually found May's. And she froze. Everything about that day was suddenly brand new again. The communication through that stare was all May needed to see that things had irreversibly changed for Audrey again. And it confirmed something terrible to May. Coulson hadn't made it here yet.

_If he had even meant to come here at all_, she considered. If not here, then…where was he?

* * *

Chapter 18 probably won't show up until Saturday evening or Sunday morning. It all depends on if I can get my blog stuff done sooner rather than later! Until then, stay tuned...


	18. Chapter 18

Ah, ha. Finally got a new chapter for you all. Crazy week. Lots of stuff going on. Sorry I couldn't have it for you sooner. I'll have chapter 19 up for you tomorrow evening. You're No Longer Just a Human Being by J. Ralph is this chapter's inspiration. Enjoy.

* * *

Leo Fitz rubbed his eyes tiredly and continued to stare at the screen before him. Faces blitzed by him in an endless flurry, being checked against Tony Stark's likeness. So far, somehow, the billionaire had managed to stay under cover for the last two days as had Iron Man. Not one person had made mention of them. Perhaps Coulson's trail had indeed gone cold as Rickard had not intended. Nor Hydra.

Fitz didn't dare glance over his shoulder for he knew that Nick Fury was still there, keeping on his tireless search as well. It had been a struggle being under Fury's eye this entire time. The Director had a knack for knowing when things weren't quite right. There again, he knew that as long as he made believe his search for Coulson was just as innocent as the idea of wanting to help his boss, then he could get through this without incident. But the moment Fury suspected anything, he would be in deeper than he could dig himself out of.

Not only was he nervous about Fury, but he hadn't seen Simmons in a long time. He knew Simmons inside and out. They'd been together for so long that, at times, he forgot about his allegiance to Hydra. He forgot that that part of him existed. She was his better half and in those rare circumstances where the world felt like it had stopped spinning, all it took was one look from her to reassure him that it still was.

"Tell you what, Agent Fitz," Fury said suddenly, ripping him out of his train of thought. "We've been at this for over 48 hours. Why don't you take a break, go find Simmons and see how she's coming with that thing in the lab?"

_I can't leave the monitor_, he thought. If he stepped away just for an instant and Fury found Stark's location and thereby Coulson's, Rickard would be breathing down his neck for a reason to his disappearance in that room. But he also had an act to keep up. He had to play the shy and shaken Leo Fitz that everyone on Coulson's team knew. And he _did_ wonder how Jemma was doing.

So he wiped his brow, gave a little nod to Fury, and stepped away from his console. As he moved out of the room, he ruminated on Pierce's orders for him to join Coulson's team under Rickard's direction. He'd never liked Rickard. The man couldn't control his bloodlust, and at every chance, he looked nothing more than like the hyena trying to prey off the recently slain. He showed no morality and from what Fitz had heard, the Clairvoyant wasn't a fan of how Rickard had handled the situation of Coulson's recapture so far. He'd bungled things up badly.

By the time Fitz reached the lab, he found a sight that confused him. Simmons was standing over a microscope, her hair frazzled and her close rumpled. When she pulled away, he noted the purple circles beneath her eyes from lack of sleep and the redness from tears. A small part of him nearly cracked. He pushed the button and let the glass door slide open.

"Jemma?"

"Not right now, Fitz," she said, turning away and grabbing a test tube from a rack on a table nearby.

"When was the last time you slept?"

She chuckled. "Sleep is for the weak."

"What are you working on?"

"Rickard ordered me to work on a modification for the ICER, something that might be able to get passed Stark's suit…"

Fitz frowned. "How come you didn't get me? I could help you!"

Simmons looked up at him and the gravity of how tired she was finally weighed on him. "Because I don't want to do it. I mean, I want them to find Coulson…get him the help he needs but…not like this."

Fitz put a hand on her arm. "You need to get some rest."

She shook her head. "I have to come up with something. I've been working on it for this so long…I should…" Fitz watched tears well up in Simmons's eyes. "I just can't believe that _everyone_ is so hell-bent on seeing this all turn out horribly. I get what May meant now…about how it was better if we didn't find Coulson straight away. If she knew this was how the agency was going to react to him running off…"

Fitz leveled his gaze with her. "You're right. Rickard is going about this all wrong. But we're here and we can help Director Fury find him before Rickard does."

"Doesn't he have similar designs?" Simmons asked. "Doesn't everyone here just want to cart Coulson off somewhere, lock him up, and throw away the key? He was there for us when we needed him to be, Fitz."

Fitz reflected on Coulson for a moment. It had been easy to get Coulson to trust him. The senior agent had a weakness for trusting what he saw on the outside. Fitz hadn't expected it to go so swimmingly nor had he expected the family-like atmosphere that had developed between the team members on the Bus. In a short amount of time, the Bus had become a home away from home and for small glimmers of time, he had wanted to believe that he wasn't there with ulterior motives. To be looked at with trust and not viewed as a faceless nameless agent for Hydra; it had felt good. But he couldn't ignore what he'd signed up for so long ago. He couldn't ignore the mission that his life had become and the pursuit he'd followed so closely for so long. Otherwise, he'd feel rudderless.

So Fitz pulled Simmons into a hug and told her not to worry, to drink a mug of tea, and keep hope alive that Coulson was as strong as they knew him to be and that he could pull himself out of it, even if he secretly wished he wouldn't. And he began his long walk back to the main control room.

* * *

Fitz wasn't out of the room for longer than a couple minutes before Fury's phone went off. He glanced around at Rickard's other agents before he took leave of the room and answered it. "You better have something for me, Hill," he said hardly.

"We've got a location on Agents May, Ward, and Skye," Agent Maria Hill said over the line, her tone even.

"Where?"

"Portland."

Fury nearly hit himself with the realization. It made perfect sense; Coulson wanting to reach out to _her_ as a last ditch effort to save his life. He knew Coulson well, he was practical, he was usually by the book, and treasured the idea of unity, of trust, and honesty above all else. But Fury also forgot that Coulson was a romantic as well. While he didn't show it with other people, when Coulson fell hip-deep for someone, it usually required a cable and tow to yank him out of it. He should have expected that the cellist, Coulson's last connection to a normal life, would have been his intended destination.

"Sir?" Hill asked.

"Has he shown up yet?"

"No."

"You keep your eyes on them and inform me immediately when he does."

"Yes, sir," Hill said just as Fury slapped his phone shut.

As if the universe had just aligned itself, the systems in the main room began beeping erratically. Fitz was just returning from the lab and ran to the closest monitor. Fury rounded the corner into the doorway at the exact moment that Rickard appeared from the opposite side of the room.

"Please, bestow some good news upon me," Rickard rumbled, his voice ominous.

"Several social media accounts about seeing Iron Man just popped up. Most are centered over the Oklahoma panhandle, Northern Texas…"

Fury's hopes deflated. _Damn it, Stark._

Rickard went to the nearest agent and said, "I want a team dispatched to that location immediately." Another alarm started beeping just as Rickard finished. He groaned. "What is it now?"

"We have a 79.1 percent match to Stark," Fitz reported, checking the data on the monitor.

"In the same location?"

Fitz tapped a few more buttons. "Looks like…Nebraska? The Sand Hills region."

Fury frowned. What was Stark up to?

"You can't get a better identification than 79 percent?" Rickard quizzed Fitz.

"No. It was a traffic camera. The face is partially in shadow."

"Well, guess we're going to have to divide and conquer," Fury announced. "My team will take the suit. Yours can take the hospital."

Rickard watched him for a moment, his black eyes discerning something in Fury's. "Why don't _you_ take the traffic cam? And I'll take the suit. That's where the money is."

Fury nodded albeit begrudgingly. Had Rickard not been watching him so closely, he would have smiled. _The suit's a dead end. Too bad Rickard doesn't know that._ He only hoped that when he caught up with Stark he would be able to get him to cooperate. _What am I thinking? Stark doesn't cooperate. It isn't in his dictionary._

* * *

Chapter 19 tomorrow. Stay tuned...


	19. Chapter 19

Another short one for you. But a fun one. Stark gets to be a super duper hero here. Save You by Matthew Perryman Jones is this chapter's inspiration. Enjoy!

* * *

"There it is. There it is. There it is."

Tony Stark had kept repeating this phrase as he closed in on the small clinic in downtown North Platte, Nebraska. He knew what he had to do, the risk involved. There were so many easier ways he could have done this. Ordinary Tony would have hired a private clinician to fly by jet to their location. He would have found a team of specialists and practically paid for their kids' college funds just to have them out there taking care of his friend. But this wasn't Ordinary Tony. This was a desperate and frightened version of himself that he rarely saw, that he hated. He'd seen enough of it after New York. It had preyed on him with such speed and ferocity that it made it hard to rationalize, to think. And so, now he was being brash. He was relying on the good will of people and that was hard to do. He was relying on trust from strangers.

He pushed through the front door of the clinic, keeping his silver aviators on. The place was small. The waiting room had a water-stained ceiling with chairs that seemed as comfortable as Styrofoam and a snack machine that looked as though it hadn't been refilled in several months. There were only a handful of people in the waiting room; an elderly couple, the woman breathing through a tube hooked to an oxygen tank, and a mother with her little boy who was coughing. Every time he did so, Tony cringed.

_So help me God, if I catch the flu in here while doing this for you, Coulson…_

He walked up to the desk where a nurse with red hair was speaking under her breath to an older woman with a bright pink uniform.

"…they said we might be closing within the end of the month… …hard to believe this place could be nothing more than a puff of smoke in such a short time… …Nobody is going to understand…"

_Ah ha,_ Tony realized. _Who said there's no such thing as divine providence?_

"Can I help you sir?" The nurse with the red hair was looking his way, eyeing his sunglasses wearily.

"Today happens to be your lucky day," he started, letting the glasses slide down to the end of his nose.

"Hon, I used to consider every day lucky until recently," she said with a shake of her head. "Now what can I help you with?"

Tony pulled a checkbook out of his back pocket and set it down on the desk. "How much?"

She frowned. "For what?"

"To get your clinic out of the red? How much will it cost?"

The nurses looked at one another and then back at him. "Is this a joke?"

"Well, usually when I make jokes they're hidden under layers of subtext and sarcasm. Some people don't get them. It's not their fault. But this time, no, I'm not making jokes. I'm a concerned member of the community who thinks that…" He paused for a moment. "Where are we?"

"North Platte," the older nurse said.

"…that North Platte needs a thriving medical clinic."

"You're not from around here are you?"

"I didn't say I was a concerned member of _this_ community… I'm just…generally concerned."

"Sir, all practical jokes aside, we are very busy here and have no time to—"

"Yeah, you looked real busy having that conversation about eventually getting laid off."

The red haired nurse's face tightened. "Sir, if you don't remove yourself right now, I'll have no other choice than to call the police."

"Why is that everyone's reaction?" Tony wondered out loud, thinking back to Darwin's reaction to him at the motel two days before. "Listen, can I be serious with you right now? I am being serious. I really need your help."

"We don't have a pharmacy on premisis, sir," she said, anticipating his line of questioning.

"I don't want drugs. I've got stock in about twenty pharmaceutical companies. If I wanted fifty bottles of Adderall, I could have it shipped to Stark Tower in a matter of seconds."

"Looks like you could use some," the older nurse said under her breath.

The red haired nurse squinted at him. "Did you say 'Stark Tower'? As in Tony Stark?"

He nodded."I did. I am. I'm him."

"And you want to pay for our clinic to stay in business?"

_Jeepers, this is harder than trying to negotiate with Chechnyan guerillas. _"Yup, that was the idea."

"Why?"

"Because I care. Small towns need places like this."

The older nurse crossed her arms and looked at him.

"Okay, I care _and_ because I need a favor."

"What favor is that?"

"I have a friend that is in serious trouble. He's in a motel about fifty miles west of us and I need someone to come and help him. He could die and he needs antibiotics."

"Why don't you just take him to the emergency room?"

"It's…complicated."

The red-headed nurse shook her head. "We can't do anything for him then."

"Oh, come on!" he shouted, startling several people in the waiting room. "I've just driven across the United States, sat baking in a grimy little motel for two days and watched a man that I thought was dead start to die all over again. I'm a multi-million dollar face and name, a corporation that holds stock in hundreds of different businesses world-wide." He spread his arms a little. "I can even fly. But right now, I'm helpless. I can't do a damn thing. He needs a miracle. I need a miracle. And yes, I'm willing to throw whatever amount of money down that I need to in order to make that happen. I'm willing to risk you calling the police and having me locked in a loony bin. I don't fall on my knees and beg. Anyone who knows me, knows that. But I'm doing it now. I'm asking for just a little generosity, a little kindness. Please… help me help him."

The two nurses looked at one another.

Stark's pulse pounded in his chest. This was either the most desperate and stupid thing he'd ever done. Or the most selfless. _I'm going with the most desperate_, he decided.

His watch beeped and he glanced down at it. It was an alert from JARVIS. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were closing in on his suit, flying on its own above Oklahoma. He needed an answer. He needed to get moving now.

The red-haired nurse took a pen from the mug on her desk and passed it across to him. "I'll call billing and get you a number, you fill out the check, and Dana will page Doctor Garcia." The older nurse started off toward the phone.

The eye of the storm. Stark sighed and felt the tension pass from his shoulders like a hot and oppressive wind clearing off toward the ocean. "Okay," he managed, his voice feeling small. "I can do that."

_Hang on, Coulson. Don't be an idiot and die on me._

He'd stuck his neck out now, personally involved himself with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s pursuit of his friend. Now, the last thing he needed was for the ax to come down on it.

* * *

Chapter 20 coming (hopefully) Friday night. Stay tuned!


	20. Chapter 20

Sorry for the late entry, peeps. Happy Easter! 'Tis finally my weekend off, so I'm looking to get another chapter up for you tomorrow. Things are getting tense! First part inspiration: Chapter inspiration: Gone by Floex. Enjoy.

* * *

It was past ten. On any normal night, Audrey would have kicked off her heels, pulled on the soft gray sweater she'd worn holes into and curled up on the couch. A mug of Earl Gray and her copy of _Grapes of Wrath_ were her evening comforts. They took her out of the world like her music had. They made her leave behind all of the terrible thoughts of yesterday and the days to come. She didn't have any of those things now.

There were people in her house. She only recognized the one woman, May, she'd called herself. The man with her looked official, his square draw and straight gaze screamed FBI to her. The only one who seemed out of place was the younger woman. She didn't talk like law enforcement or any kind of government agent. And since they'd gone with her back to her flat, there had been a heavy tension lingering among them like death looming over a wake.

She'd invited them into the living room although she hated any part of that past interfering with her present. May had shattered her world that day. And then she'd vanished, like some kind of angel of darkness bringing terrible news. And now, just when Audrey finally felt the pieces were all set back in their proper places, she showed up again with an earth shattering atom bomb of information.

"He's…alive?" She could hardly say the words out loud. Every inch of her body felt like it was about to break into tremors.

May didn't say anything. She didn't even make eye contact.

The man stepped in, Ward, she thought he'd said his name was. "He's been on special assignment ever since his recovery. Undercover."

_As if that makes it any easier to digest_, she thought to herself. It felt like thousands and thousands of windows in her head were closing all at once. The air was stale and the dim lights only hurt her eyes more. The exhaustion tugged at her like a drug trying to negotiate her into sleep. Hollowness crept up inside her in those next few moments. She imagined that every inhale she took was like a lonely string of wind gusting through a narrow space. Why was it so hard to breathe? Why was it so hard for her to close her eyes and not see his face there?

The first few months had been wretched. Every face out of the corner of her eyes became Phil until she faced them. A laugh heard from a distance with the same pitch made her immediately spin around and search, eyes darting, hoping to see his familiar smile. But it had never been him. It was never going to be him.

She stared at May and shook her head. "You said he was dead."

"Because I had been told he was," May said, her dark eyes searching Audrey's. "I honestly didn't know."

But Audrey couldn't believe that. How could she even believe that they were telling her the truth? It was easier to think that he was dead and gone. It was easier to imagine that her love and the hope it had floated on had sunk like an old ship long ago. It had been easier to take her heart, lock it up in a little box, and bury it under six feet of dirt. It had been the hardest thing ever for her to dig it back up again and entrust it to someone else.

While they all stood there strangely in her living room, she knew that Michael was about to be home any moment. _He'll have had a long day. He'll be tired. He won't understand what's going on. And I really, _really_ don't want to explain._

But what she couldn't get passed was that if this was all really true, then Phil had allowed their job to come between them. He had ended this himself, put the final stake in the coffin of their relationship. She'd known it couldn't have lasted too much longer. But she'd still craved that connection. She still loved hearing his voice at the end of every week when they called one another. She missed imagining his infectious smile and mostly, the way he told her he'd be seeing her soon. She liked that; the promise of rekindling something.

No. Not now though. It was too late.

"Why?" she asked, her skin growing hot.

"Why what?" the younger one they called Skye asked.

"Why did you come all the way out here to tell me?"

"Because we thought you'd want to know," the younger woman said, offense stinging her tone. "Because we thought you'd care."

"Don't vilify me," Audrey said quickly, cutting off Skye. "You don't know what I've been through and for the record, I care_ very_ much."

May stepped in front of Skye. "We came because Phil is in trouble and he needs your help."

Audrey couldn't help but scoff. "He needs _my_ help?" she repeated. She didn't understand. This had to be a prank, a sadistic and cruel prank being played. Phil had always shown her that he was adept at taking care of himself. He kept his work to himself, never brought it home to them and always made her feel as if what they had together existed in its own unique and perfect world. His job was a distant planet and so was hers. And while they sometimes orbited close to one another, the bad things about them never interfered with their relationship. Until she'd had to move anyway…

"Phil suffered a mental breakdown," May said softly.

The words made Audrey feel cold. She couldn't imagine it. She couldn't see Phil losing himself like that. "What do you mean exactly?" she asked even though she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"He…" May started and drifted off. "He tried to…"

Audrey didn't need her to finish that sentence. The implication was there, the terrible tone in her voice that made Audrey want to take back everything that had happened, everything she'd done, every tear she'd shed. He was alive. And he didn't want to be alive. If her insides hadn't already felt cracked, they most certainly were now.

"Why me?" she said although she already knew. Even through all of the pain she'd suffered after hearing about his death, she'd still treasured him, mourned him and carried him with her. And while a large part of her wanted to save herself from enduring anymore of that pain, she knew the bigger thing to do, the more important thing, was to ensure he was safe. To touch him. To hold him in her arms and know that he hadn't passed away and become air. She needed to do this for herself just as much as to do it for him.

"He was on his way out here to see you," Ward explained. "He left a good few hours ahead of us."

Audrey frowned. "_Was_ on his way here," she repeated, catching Ward's phrasing. "What happened? Where is he?"

"We're not sure," May said. "There are people who don't want him to make it out here."

She shook her head. "I don't understand. Why? What has he gotten himself into?"

May sighed and Audrey could tell that there was even more to this already gut-wrenching conversation. But before May could speak, a door opened at the front of the house and she heard keys jingling.

Ward, Skye, and May all tensed, their eyes searching for hiding spots and potential weapons. But Audrey put up her hands and said, "It's alright."

A second later, Michael walked in, briefcase still in hand. The minute his gray eyes settled on the other people in the room he froze. "Audrey, what's going on? Who are these people?"

Audrey followed May's gaze. It had settled on Michael's hand. He was wearing an engagement band. And then she stared at Audrey's.

She'd taken it off to play the cello. Something about having it on her finger made her feel constricted, unable to unleash herself to the sounds. And when May had confronted her about Coulson, she couldn't put it back on. She could hardly breathe, knowing she'd given up on Coulson and the pain and tried to find some semblance of normalcy, even if it felt rushed.

She had told Michael all about Phil and her relationship with him, and Michael had been caring and emotionally supportive of her. But she'd always sensed their relationship had developed too quickly, and that it had been mostly at her insistence. She had wanted to leave those horrible thoughts and feelings behind. She had wanted to try and forget. She wanted an eraser and a new beginning. She'd been so scared.

"Michael, these people are with S.H.I.E.L.D.," she said calmly, despite the flurry of thoughts crowding her head. "They have news about Phil. He's alive."

* * *

"Can you not—" Dr. Garcia shouted, as the car swerved around an RV on the road. "Could you please drive a little more…"

"What?" Stark said. "This isn't safe enough for you? We're wearing seatbelts."

"Well, just saying, it would be a terrible pity if we got into a car accident before we could reach your friend," Garcia muttered, his fist clenched around the car's "oh-shit" handle above the door and the other clenching his medical bag in his lap.

Stark rolled his eyes. "We're not going to crash."

_But this traffic is ludicrous for this time of the night…_ he thought, glancing at all the cars. _You'd think there was a One Direction concert out here or something._

"How much further is it?"

"Almost…there."

Garcia cleared his throat. "Mr. Stark, I'm not sure I understand why you've done what you did for our clinic."

"Geez, no one can just accept a gift as a gift. They have to analyze it to death."

"That may be so, but you'll have to admit, it's rather peculiar."

"I'm a peculiar person. And anyone who tells you I'm not obviously hasn't spent more than a minute in the same room with me."

Garcia scoffed. "I'm starting to get that."

"There!" Stark pointed to lights off to the left. "There it is."

The turn came up quicker than he anticipated and he barely had time to slow the car down as he swerved it off the road and down into the dirt parking lot. Garcia screamed as the car spun slightly against the dirt. Tony killed the engine and wrenched open his door. "Let's go! Shake a leg, Doc!"

Garcia timidly climbed out of the car, kit in hand, and followed Stark to the motel room closest to them.

Stark barged in the door. Darwin jumped up from his spot by the bed, eyes wide. "Jesus, Stallone, what are you trying to do? Give me another heart murmur?"

"Now we're even."

Tony nearly lost his breath when he looked at the bed.

Coulson was writhing in pain, his face twisted and white as a sheet.

"Where the hell have you been anyway? You said you'd be back before dark —it's after midnight!" Darwin continued.

Stark ignored him. "What happened?"

"He's been like this for the last couple hours. Helluva fever. There wasn't much more I could do."

"Doc!" Tony called to Garcia who was still standing behind them. "Get over here."

Garcia maneuvered around Darwin and ran to Coulson's side.

"Listen, Stallone, come here. I need to talk to you." Darwin put a hand on Tony's arm.

Tony brushed him off. "How bad is it, Doc?"

Garcia was trying to unwrap the bandage while Coulson bucked against him. "Please, someone hold him down."

Stark moved to the other side of the bed and put his hands on Coulson's shoulders.

"Stop!" Coulson pleaded. "I'm begging you. Please let me die!"

"It's okay, Phil. You're safe. You're not there. You're alright," Stark tried to calm him.

Garcia peeled the bandage away. "It's septic. We're going to need to drain it, clean it—"

"Stallone, it's important," Darwin said.

"Not now!"

"—going to be in extreme pain while we do this. It's important that we do this quickly." Garcia looked around the room. "We should move him to a more sterile environment."

"He can't go anywhere," Stark reiterated.

"Then can we at least have some better lighting? It feels like we're doing this in someone's basement."

Stark turned to Darwin. "Can you find us some lamps or something?"

Darwin waved his arms. "Stallone—"

"They could be lava lamps and they'd still do the job."

"Stallone!" he finally shouted.

"What?!" Stark stood up.

"I've been trying to tell you that I've seen four helicopters go overhead in the last few hours. In fact, I saw one fly overhead not long after you came squealing into the parking lot." Darwin's eyes pierced his. "I think whoever you two are trying to hide from...they're sniffing pretty damn close."

Stark's eyes widened. He hadn't thought about it when he got back, the fact that the suit wasn't waiting for him or that JARVIS hadn't been in contact for nearly an hour. He wasn't sure if JARVIS had done everything he'd asked, but it was a certainty that S.H.I.E.L.D. had gotten hold of the iron suit. And that meant he was defenseless if they had tracked him here.

"Damn it."

And then, as if by magic, a blinding light flooded in from outside, encompassing the room in white.

_It's over,_ Stark realized. _S.H.I.E.L.D. found us._

* * *

Cliff-hangery hangerness. Stay tuned for Chapter 21.


	21. Chapter 21

Finally. Apologies for it being late. Headaches are horrible. So is sleeplessness. And other writing obligations. But here it is for you all. Roslin and Adama by Bear McCreary (from Battlestar Galactica Soundtrack) is the inspiration for this chapter. Gorgeous song. Enjoy.

* * *

Stark searched the room blindly, trying to think of the closest weapon. Without his suit, they were all at S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mercy. And with Coulson in such poor shape, he'd be the one to suffer the most.

But with the sudden blinding light, there weren't the familiar drones of helicopters, of magazines clipping into guns and of cars crunching through dirt outside. Instead, the light suddenly flashed brighter followed by a thunderous crash that shook the tiny motel. The light suddenly cut out.

"What the hell was that?" Doctor Garcia shouted, swinging his head around in confusion.

"Sounded like one helluva lightning strike," Darwin complained. "I hope it didn't hit my rooster weathervane."

Stark sighed and let his shoulders ease. "He's always got to make such a dramatic entrance."

Darwin frowned. "Who?"

Before Stark could get to the door to open it, the whole thing was busted off its hinges, collapsing with a thud against the rug. A giant man stepped into the room, his arms sculpted and chest accentuated by his armor. A flowing red cape trailed behind him. He glanced in Stark's direction and pointed at him. "Man of Iron…"

"My friends call me Tony…"

"…I received your message."

"Kind of figured by your theatrical arrival, Oh God of Thunder."

Thor smiled. "You have not changed since New York."

"But you have, apparently. Work on the gluts a little? Oh and…might I add, nice job in England, you know, ripping up Greenwich and all."

"You jest, and yet you need my help to take care of your puny human problems?"

"'Puny?' Did you just call me puny?"

Garcia cleared his throat across the room. "With all due respect, Mr. Stark, I could use your assistance here. Now."

"Stark?" Darwin cocked his head. His eyes widened the longer he stared at Tony. "So _that's_ why you look so familiar! You're that egghead that took down the Mandarin…"

"'_Egghead'_? Seriously? With the names? Can we stop?"

Thor was staring at Coulson, completely frozen. "What dark magic have you conjured?"

"None. My conjuring days are far behind me."

"Do my eyes deceive me? Is that not the Son of Coul?"

"Stark! Now!" Garcia shouted.

Coulson bucked against him.

"Yup, it's him alright. Minus the casket," Tony said, moving back to the bed and holding Coulson down. "Darwin, we need that light now."

Darwin slid by Thor. " 'scuse me, Schwarzenegger," he mumbled before vanishing out the door.

Thor approached the bed, a tone of sadness stinging his eyes. "What has happened?"

"Lots to explain. Too much actually," Tony said, grunting as he tried to keep Coulson from flailing. "The important thing is that S.H.I.E.L.D. is coming. And you've just led them right to him with your histrionics."

"I am confused by this turn of events," Thor said, shaking his head.

"Get in line," Garcia uttered, as he snapped on some rubber gloves.

"They brought Phil back for some reason but now they're trying to kill him."

Thor frowned. "You would think they would make up their minds."

Stark rolled his eyes. "Long story short: we need time to take care of his injuries. And we need you to defend our location."

Thor nodded and moved to the side of the bed. "I will defend you, Phil, son of Coul."

"Now, they are going to come at us with everything they've got. And I don't have the suit anymore. They've got it. Are you going to be able to handle that much firepower?"

Thor smiled. "My friend, I have battled hordes of Chitauri…"

"Haven't forgotten. I was there, too."

"I defended the Earth from the nefarious deeds of my brother, Loki, twice…"

Stark groaned. "Not successfully enough the first time…"

"And I have triumphed over Dark Elves and Frost Giants alike…"

"…with some _minor_ damage left behind in your wake."

Coulson opened his eyes a moment. "Magic broom?"

Thor frowned. "What?"

Stark did the same. "What?"

Both shook their heads and ignored it. "My point is that I can more than withstand you tiny humans for enough time for you to make your get away."

"Crap," Stark said under his breath, "The getaway. I knew I was forgetting something important."

"Do not fear. I know someone that can help us. I shall find them and return to stand guard outside. I'll alert you when the time is near." Thor stalked to the doorway, nearly bumping into Darwin who was just scuttling back in with a series of desk lamps.

He started uncoiling wires and shaking his head. "Just between us, you ought to tell your friend to lay off the steroids," he mentioned.

Stark turned his attention back to Coulson who had calmed a little and was gripping Stark's hand tightly.

Garcia looked up at Tony, his expression grave and said, "Are you ready?" In his hand, he held a needle connected to an IV and behind him, he'd laid out all of his tools which shimmered in the low light.

Stark swallowed awkwardly. "Whenever you are, Doc."

* * *

The suit hadn't gone down without a fight. Even Rickard had expected it. But it hadn't left him satisfied. The suit was empty and S.T.A.R.K.'s artificial intelligence JARVIS had powered down the suit and stripped its memory, leaving it completely useless to them. There was a chance that their files and resources at the Triskelion would be able to hack the suit and pull something up. Probably even that kid on Coulson's bus, Fitz, could do something with it. But he didn't have the time.

Stark had pulled one over on him. And Fury for that matter, too. Now both were a step ahead of him and he had nothing to show for it. The Clairvoyant wouldn't be happy and neither would Pierce.

If that wasn't enough, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar had just sounded about an 0-8-4 mysteriously appearing just twenty miles shy of Stark's presumed location in Nebraska. The oddities were piling up and he wasn't sure that he liked what they meant.

His phone began to ring suddenly. He answered it, expecting it to be either Pierce or the Clairvoyant. "This is Rickard."

"Sir, I know where Agent Coulson is headed," a voice said over the line.

Rickard recognized it. Suddenly all of his thoughts about this situation ending badly receded and he felt the familiar grin curl onto his face. "Is he there now?"

"No. But his team is. And he shouldn't be too far behind."

"Good. I'll be sending a team in your direction," Rickard said. "Until then, you make sure you make them feel welcome, Michael."

* * *

Chapter 22 will probably be up Friday evening. Stay tuned...


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